The kind of hassles NYC fleet taxi drivers put up with that can still make Uber X look good.

You can tell from the dispatch receipt that I was clocked in at the garage at 13:34 and I got dispatched at 16:00. That means 2:26 minutes just hanging around. I put the time to good use because the other drivers who got there before I did are kind enough to let me sit on a bench where I have a wall to lean against and a plug to connect my cell phone chager. So I blog, read the news, bullshit with other drivers, doze, etc. No one is paying me, not yet. Oh, I'm rated pretty highly too (Silver, 259 points of a high of 292 and up for a Gold rating). So I guess I don't get the worse treatment. 

So it's four o'clock, I've got the key and the key to my taxi du jour. Now to find the car. I go to the usual spots, and guess what? It's in the last place I'd look- the body shop. It's filthy.

It's filthy alright, and the body workers have had the engine running all day, my taxi is the one that they took their brakes, meals and naps in and they had the engine running and the heat on full blast. I  go to the dispatcher and get his permission to get on the gas line and have the car filled up.

The car is short four gallons but the gas pumps have frozen up.

So I take the car to the car wash, then push and argue my way back onto the gas line. Finally, my gas tank is filled. Three hours and twenty minutes after checking in, 54 minutes after being dispatched.

Ready to  roll. I made $182.00. A lousy night, not caused by Uber.- How do I know? I picked up a passenger who happens to be a stripper.  She only made $23.00. I smell recession in the air.

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