 You want a deposit?... -Alex Farr It was a beautiful sunny May day, the unseasonable rain had passed, and along with it, the business had died. Sooo dead, it was. I found myself at the MacArthur cab stand, though not in the legal sense of the word. The thing is, Oakland has only allocated 4 spaces for cabs at this particular stand... so when business dies, well the line stretches back beyond the legal limits. It was all well and nice, until the city decided to turn half the block into a bus zone. So, there I was this one day... rolling up to the cabstand with nothing to do but wait, only to find that not only was the cabstand full, but there was a line of cabs double parked beside the cars parked on the curb stretching all the way back to the bus zone. I was fucked. Parking in a bus zone was asking for a $250 ticket, and I had little faith that double parking in a bus zone was liable to be any less fineable... That meant that I was gonna have to drive back to
downtown, and hope I could find a place to double park by that cabstand... There was the slightest of possibilities of finding a flag on the drive, of course... but I might have better odds of earning some money if I found a liquor store or a gas station and just played the lotto scratchers until someone's car broke down, or someone's crack ho convinced them that they should take a cab back to the motel. Suddenly though, out of the blue, I got a call from dispatch. I'd forgotten to change my "spot" with the dispatch to a more popular section of town, and now my dumb luck was paying off with a fare in North Oakland. "Pick up at 957 57 st, they're going to Seminary." the dispatch told me. Holy shit! I'm thinking, that's a $15 to $20 fare! I'm saved! I was about half way to the house when dispatch called me again, to say "Yeah, I don't know... they just sounded funny- I think you better be sure to get a deposit." "Thanks for the warning..." I said, thankful mostly that I hadn't actually left a spot in the cabstand for this after all. So I pull up, and I honk, and dispatch calls, and eventually the door opens. Out comes a cute little black chick with heavy electric blue eyeliner, and my first thought is it's some sort of half loaded raver chick... and for a brief moment the thought goes through my mind not to bother to hassle her for a deposit. I drove her about 3 houses down the street before I thought better of
the idea. I hadn't been burned by a fare running out on me for months, and I meant to keep up the streak. "So, could you give me a deposit before we get too far?" I ask, as friendly as I can be when 6 hours hasn't even left me breaking even. "You want a deposit?" "Yeah, if you could just give me some cash, we'll be off." I say, still friendly-like. "Ok, no problem." she says, and she hands me a $5. My foot comes off the gas as I respond with "$5? You're giving me a
$5 deposit?" It reminded me of the cute trick that an old housemate of mine had suggested... to short change cabs. "Well... how much you think it's gonna be?" she asks, innocently. "Uhh, well... it's gonna be at least $15, maybe $20." "Oh, so, what... you think I'm gonna run out or something?..." she asks, with that Oakland ghetto tone surfacing. "Well, no... I'm making sure you're not gonna." I answer, trying to
keep cool. It wasn't the time to try to explain that the passengers who mean to run out on a cabbie are always the ones who act the most offended at the notion... "Fine." she says, and hands me another $5. "Ok," I say calmly. "We're getting there..." If she would've just come up with another $5 I would've gone with it.
For $15, that day, I would've probably let it slide... even if the fare had gone up to $18, or maybe even $19. Instead, "You know what..." she said, "just take me to the BART." I laughed. I couldn't help myself. "Ok... well $5 should be good enough then..." I assured her, and gave her one of the fives back. I mean, I would've liked to have the rest of the money... but the time and effort and gas if she only had the $10... well, it just wouldn't've been worth the effort. There comes a point when the "benefit of the doubt" becomes a sucker's bet. Sure enough, the fare to the BART station wound up running $5.12. "Don't sweat it..." I said, still giggling a little at how what felt like an attempted cute little plan had gone awry. "Here" she said, to show me... whatever it was she thought she was showing me, and she handed me some little coins. "I need my 3 cents back!" I glanced at the coins, and nearly bust up laughing again. In her fury, she'd given me a nickel and 2 dimes... so I gave her her 3 pennies back, and just laughed at how stupid she was to not even be able to work out how to count out 15 cents. By the time she'd gotten out of the cab, there was room to double park,
and calmly enjoy my 10 cent tip...
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