9 Necessary Ground Rules For Insufferable Uber Drivers
Photo: Drazen_ (Getty)
Let’s face it, Uber drivers (and ride shares of all wheels of life) need some necessary ground rules, and we need to enforce these rules if we’re all going to continue to coexist. For example, if you’re learning how to use a smartphone while driving your Uber, maybe you shouldn’t be driving one.
Personally, I cannot get along with certain kinds of people, and I think we can all agree, a little fine-tuning of our insufferable Uber drivers is long overdue. That goes for you, too, Lyft. Welcome to 2018, a time when I don’t have to talk to a stranger or listen to their shitty music if I don’t want to.
That said, if the drivers can follow these 9 very simple ground rules, I will be willing to follow some of theirs, which may include simple rules such as “Don’t Puke in My Backseat” or “please stop yelling obscenities out the window.”
Check out these 9 necessary ground rules, then let us know if we left anything out, fellow Uber riders. It’s a brand new day!
Ground Rules For Insufferable Uber Drivers
Talk Mode Option: On or Completely Off
Number one complaint of any Uber or Lyft? Too much talking (and/or BO). Before we even meet, we should establish what kind of a ride this is going to be so everyone can be prepared.
I suggest the app have a Talk Mode you can swipe on or off. I know taxis have never done this, but we've also never had dudes named Jeremy pick us up in their mother's Prius.
Pick Me Up at the Address, Not Where My Blue Dot Is
There's a reason we enter an address, because that's where we want to get picked up. We don't need you knowing which apartment we live in or which door we use when we leave the house or whether or not we have a savage terrier that'll rip your nuts off, should you creep on us (we do, she's vicious).
There are way too many beautiful women and even more creepy dudes driving these cars. Let's not give them a leg up, so to speak.
Calm Down & Wait a Fucking Minute
If you drive a good distance to pick me up, and I'm not on the curb with bows in my hair waiting for you, then put the fucking thing in park and chill out. I know it gets busy, and you have to make a living, but we haven't done any blow off our dashboard thus far today, and it wouldn't kill to have a little chivalry. The number of times I've been bailed on less in two minutes or less is unreal, and it's even more annoying to email with a complaint where we sound like some entitled college brat who got too high to find the car.
Easy on the Pine-Cone Perfume
Photo: via imgflip.com
I know it must start to smell on those hot days being in the car for 8 hours at a time, but here's an idea: Take a fucking shower. If it stinks so bad in your car that you're dousing it with some strawberry air freshener I can't breathe through, then you either need a deodorant stick in the glove box or a little time to air you and your mother's car out. If it smells like sex, that's my fault, sorry.
Middle Seat Counts
If there are four dudes going to a bar, and a car shows up, that's four seats: one in the front, three in the back. Riding shotgun is a bitch move, but it's better than four grown men rolling up to a bar in a minivan.
No. Rap. Music.
We don't have to listen to my music. In fact, I'm interested to know what you're into, so long as it's not rap. That's not music. That's a hate crime embryo and you're sending me out into the world with that anger in my head. How dare you. It's not 1995, and DMX hasn't been heard from in some time.
Listen to My Suggestions
It's my money, so we like to think it goes without saying that when I say take a left here, TAKE A FUCKING LEFT HERE. Sorry, I lost my cool there. But seriously, if I ask you to avoid the freeway during rush hour, maybe we should do that.
Please Don't Be Psycho
If you're psycho, please don't be an Uber driver, or at least don't be mine. If you know you're psycho, do your best to hide it. I'm guessing the vetting for these gigs involve two things: having a car and having a head.
And if you're going to be psycho, make that readily apparent before I'm in the car so I can make an informed decision.
All This, Or Else
Now you know my feelings. All this to say, I hope we're not going to have any problems. I just needed a ride to my buddy's house, and I'm not interested in how much it costs to drive out to the desert to bury your psychotic, rap-playing, bad-driving, over-talking ass. Because we both know that pine-cone perfume is going to make it real easy for someone to find you.