Dear Emotional Vampire
Dear Emotional Vampire,
I am trapped behind a razor wire chain link fence and can no longer understand the words you are marching at me.
Thank you for choosing Uber as your mode of transportation home from your job today. Your contribution of $7 - of which $3.07 will go into my pocket - will make me feel slightly less broke when I count up all the three and four dollar rides I’ve given today that collectively look something like $100. I do wish you had not lit that cigarette as I was pulling up. You knew it was me; you waved to me. I guess it’s just been one of those days that you just really needed to hotbox a ciggy before getting into my clean car and pulling your cancer cloud in behind you, even though your house is only four minutes away. I’m on hour eight of driving, but yes, please do tell me all about your day. Mind if I crack the window? Oh, of course, it’s hot! I’ll crank the air for you.
Oh, you’re a bartender? And you STILL want to talk. That’s incredible, because I’m usually beat down by the incessant needs, wants and opinions of humanity by the end of my shift. Well, let’s be honest, it usually happens well before the end of the shift, but you’re not listening to me anyway so nevermind. The stage is yours, Madam.
…Good point. You never can be sure if someone wandering around the French Quarter is just drunk, on something or totally sober but plain crazy…Oh sure, you gotta love the drunks. Like you say, they pay your bills!…No, I don’t want to hear about the guy with the, Oh, okay, go on then…A polo shirt and a ferret hat, really?… Crazy!…Folks in New Orleans have a bad work ethic? It makes it hard to run a business?…Oh…I’m sure…Yeah…oh…so that’s what you say to each other at work…Oh, for sure…Have you noticed my “for sure” responses have grown monotone and randomly placed? That’s because the part of my brain that controls inflection has been sucked dry and now only a thin crinkled membrane exists where there was a hearty, pulsing élan vital as recently as fifteen minutes ago. But I’ve been socialized to be polite, so I’ll reach down a little deeper and drag out another slightly encouraging murmur.
…Yes, please do tell me about the traffic in New Orleans…Wow, how interesting that back in home in Arkansas people have a better work ethic and they’re better drivers…That’s impressive how you’re able to put potato chips in your mouth while also telling me about how you sometimes hate New Orleans…Oh, don’t worry about the crumbs, I’ll clean up after you…Thank you for wiping your hands on your own T-Shirt and not my fabric seats. That’s very thoughtful of you…Gosh you asked me a question about myself but never gave me the chance to answer. That’s okay, I can tell that conversation isn’t really your thing.
Looks like we’re here!…Yeah…for sure…Uh huh…Wow, he sounds like a jerk…Uh huh…for sure…Well, I got another ping…Okay…for sure…We’ve been here 32 seconds now and you’ve got one foot out the door. You’re almost out, just swing that left foot over!…Oh, okay, I would love a cash tip of three dollars. Thank you, that is considerate of you to keep it under the table, and it’s three dollars more than I had six minutes ago.
Good luck to you too!
I hope I never see you again.
Your Uber driver