“I love Columbus!”

My passenger, whom I had picked up from East 4th and High, exclaimed.

We went into a conversation. I learned he had finished undergrad at Ohio University only a few months prior. From our conversation, he extolled about how the “city is growing” and there’s so much opportunity. He said that he tells his friends, family, and other frat brothers all the time about how much there is to do here. He tells me how nice it is to live in a city so cheap. “It’s like a budget Boston, or a little Chicago!”

I drop him off somewhere in Grandview Yard. Five stars. He’s a little excited, maybe a bit drunk. Whatever, I don’t care.

It’s 8 PM, on a Friday. I know that if I need to use the bathroom, I’d better find a spot soon — most places with clean restrooms are going to be closing soon. After that, I knew I’d be in for a fifteen-mile drive home to use the bathroom. I had been driving since 3:30 PM, and I knew I was likely going to be out until 3 AM.

I click “go offline” on the apps, as I pull into the Starbucks on the corner of Dublin Road and Grandview avenue.

Although Friday is usually my biggest moneymaker, this week is slow. College students are only just now returning to class. OSU Football season is over. Everyone is still broke from the holidays. There’s no real big event going on in the city right now.

I get a Venti Iced Chai Tea Latte from Starbucks. I press “go online” on the Uber Driver and Lyft Driver apps, and I sit in the Starbucks parking lot, waiting for a ride request.

I browse Twitter.

I look at Instagram.

I spray down my seats with Meguiar’s Hard Surface car interior cleaner, and do a quick wipe down. The guy two rides ago reeked of weed, and I swear to god I can still smell it.

I check Apple Music — it’s Friday, so they’ve got a whole new selection of “new music” I can check from. I’m not sure what the hell is going on with this algorithm — the first five songs are total trash.

Ugh.

It takes 45 minutes for either app to send me another ride. I see the ping; it looks like Lyft hit me up first. I switch apps, and tap “go offline” on Uber, as I make my way towards the Lyft call. The app tells me I should be on location in about six minutes. I’m driving for four minutes, when I hear the all too familiar “dee-doop” accompanied by a text message from a Bay Area phone number that says that my rider has canceled.

Dammit.

I navigate in the app to check the specifics of the cancellation, and I see the generic “Because this rider canceled within two minutes of requesting, no fee will be assigned to this ride!”

Damn.

I know I’ve definitely been driving more than two minutes, but I know driver support is useless. Looks like I don’t get that $5 fee.

It’s been more than an hour since my last ride.

Two minutes later, Lyft sends me a new ride request; this one has a 22 minute arrival time estimation. I am also in the wrong lane, facing the opposite direction of the ride request, about to drive on the on-ramp to 670. Hell no.

I decline the ride.

I get off the freeway, and loop back down Goodale Street, and I park on the side of the road somewhere in Victorian Village. I turn my car off. There’s no point in idling all out of my gas out, since I go through three tanks of gas in a week.

About ten minutes later, I finally get a new ping. It’s one of the residence halls on campus. I arrive a few minutes later, and I put my hazard lights on, and wait. A few moments later, two girls get in my car, dressed to go out.

I generally don’t talk to my passengers aside from a friendly “Hello” or “How’s your day going?”. It’s easy to tell when someone does not want to talk, and I am more than happy to oblige. To be honest, sometimes the stories my passengers regale me with are annoying, and I’d rather just focus on getting you to your destination quickly and safely.

I drop them off in the Short North, at Condado Tacos.

I check the ride receipt. I’ve made $3.00 for that fare. No tip.

I turn on the Uber app, and to my surprise, I get a ride request immediately. Just a few blocks away — I drive a little bit slow to get there, I’m only 45 seconds from them, and they’re probably not expecting for their Uber to come so quickly.

I arrive. Uber’s countdown timer and arrival start automatically. After about three minutes, a middle-aged couple gets in my car. I slide the “Start UberX” bar in the app and I can finally see where they’re going. Far, and it’s mostly a freeway drive, way out towards the Dublin/Plain City border.

I can tell they don’t use ride-sharing apps very often. They seem taken in by the novelty of ordering a car via an app. They compliment my car, say it’s “much more spacious inside than it looks!”. They say it’s very clean and they appreciate how “fresh” it smells inside.

They ask me the standard questions, the questions most every ride-share driver gets.

“How long have you been doing this? Is this your full-time job? Where are you originally from? What part of the city do you live in? Do you like doing this job?”

Some drivers tire of answering those questions. I don’t mind.

I answer them honestly.

“I’ve been doing it for three years, and yes this is my full-time job as I search for work. I’m originally from Northeast Ohio, Akron in particular. This job pays my bills sort of, but there’s a reason I am looking for work.”

People often follow up with other questions.

“Did you go to college? Have you thought about going to Columbus State?”

I smile. Or wince. It depends on what kind of day I’ve had.

I say “I graduated from Ohio State.”

“Oh.” they say.