about a month ago I was in Atlanta, had driven down for a fark.com party, was staying with one of the farkers and another was there also.
Our plan was to cab it into Atlanta and be responsible adults.
We call cab company w, they're out of business. We call cab company x, they're not answering and we leave a message we call cab company Y, the phone makes no noise whatsoever on 2 calls We call cab company Z, finally someone... the local gives the address, and we go out on the front porch to hang out and catch up
About 35 minutes later I mention that the cab was supposed to be there in 20, dude calls the cab company back, no answer
We start getting ready to leave deciding I am going to be DD for the night, or that we would leave my car if I didn't feel like driving somewhere in Decartur.
Cab company calls backs at about 55 minutes, tells us that the subdivision he's in has 6 entrances. He tells them yes, and every single entrance goes to his house and to forget it as it's now 35 minutes past time and we gotta scoot.
We get in my car, head out, the same guy calls back and says he's at the house now (there are screaming kids in the background) and where are we and proceeds to yell at my friend who then mentions there are no kids in his neighborhood and for them to grow up. I think they called back once or twice more.
1. Told cabbie to drop us off at the corner of *street* and *street*. (Can't remember names.) He said he needed an exact address. I said I didn't have it, could give him directions if he needed. He immediately started off on the "You're wasting my time" nonsense, literally yelling at me, while he was driving in the general direction of our destination. I actually saw the place we were going as he was yelling at me, and pointed and told him "Right there." Couldn't believe my mom tipped him.
2. After my wedding, I knew my dad was headed to the nearest bar to get sloppy drunk, so I wrote down my exact address (he was staying at my house during my honeymoon) and the number of a cab company and stuck the piece of paper in his pocket. Unfortunately, the genius that named the streets in my neighborhood decided to put a 134th Street and a 134th Place right next to each other. I don't know how to link, but you can look up a map if you want, 134th Place, Hawthorne, CA (I haven't lived there in over 5 years). I lived on 134th Place, and the cabbie dropped my stumbling drunk father off at my street number on 134th Street, and told him there was no such thing as 134th Place, when it was literally a block away. Not to mention, knowing the direction the cabbie was coming from, he would have had to pass 134th Place to get to 134th Street! Thankfully, my father was able to find things that looked familiar even though he'd only been in town for a day and found his way back to my house. Not sure if the bad service is on the cabbie, who should know the area better than that, or the genius that named the streets.
3. And the countless times a cabbie would start going the wrong way when I told them I lived on Joseph Street. They always headed to St. Joseph Street. Sigh. They'd usually restart the meter without me asking, but I had to argue a few times. I ain't payin' if you ain't listenin'. And yes, there most certainly IS a Joseph Street. I live there.
Three or four years ago my then boyfriend now husband and I went down to Saint Thomas for our good friend's wedding. The bride and her family were from Saint Thomas, which is why the wedding was being held down there. The groom and his family are all from Massachusetts (and most of his friends).
My husband (groomsman) and I ended up sharing a hotel room with another of our good friends (bestman) and taking a mini vacation at the same time. How often are we going to get to Saint Thomas after all.
Now we had the choice of taxi cabs or renting a car. People drive on the left side of the road out there (in US Standard cars, drivers on the left of the car), Shadow (husband) did not feel comfortable driving on the left hand side of the road so we opted to use the local taxis.
This is how the taxi system works in the US Virgin Islands: Taxi rates are based on destination rather than milage. In other words they charge a set price to get you to places on the island. From hotel to downtown five dollars. Per person. This means one person going downtown from the hotel, five dollars, two, ten dollars etc.
On our first or second night on the island the group of us (three total) went downtown to get a bite to eat (fifteen dollars). We took a cab back to the hotel later that night. 15 dollars was the total again. I gave the cabbie a twenty (all we had on us were twenties or travelers checks). Our friend gave us five dollars to pay us back for paying for him. Then the cab driver starts to try to leave. Without giving us our change. We stop him, tell him he owes us five dollars change. He tries to tell us that we just got it (the five that our friend gave us). We carefully walk through the payment process with him.
You took three people at five dollars a head from downtown back to the hotel. That costs 15 dollars. We gave you a twenty. You owe us five. Even at 20% your tip would only come to three dollars, not five. The five that our friend handed us was paying us for paying his fare.
We spoke with the hotel and others about tipping practices for taxi's after that. Basically everyone said that since they charge per person a set rate based on destination, tipping is completely up to you.
And some drivers got very high tips from us. (the taxi driver who got us to the other side of the island in time for the wedding rehersal in five minutes avoiding traffic got a MAJOR tip)
But don't try to scam money out of us. We weren't born yesterday.
Not really bad service because this stuff happens....and it was funny.
Years ago I was at a mall buying my dad a father's day present. I bought him a ferret and I wasn't going to take it on a bus so I grabbed a cab parked in front of the mall. The ferret was in a box and the driver had no idea what I had. On the way home I started to smell crap. I was embarrassed! I thought the ferret was crapping and I was thinking the cab driver thought it was me! When we got to my place I tipped him very well and quickly went inside.
When I opened the box....the ferret was fine and there was no crap or foul smell...then or later. My conclusion? If it wasn't the ferret...or me.....? LOL Gross!
Since it's going around today, I thought I'd rehash the experience I had late last fall with a cabbie.
I live in Chicago and live by public transit. Whether I'm taking a bus, a train, or a cab, I rely on others to get me to where I need to go. On the night in question, it was raining, and my friend and I had been at a bar most of the evening. We decided it was time to go home, so we walked outside and looked around to see if a bus was anywhere in sight to take us home. (The street we were on was notorious for lack of regularly running buses...but that's a whole other bad service story...)
We waited for a couple of minutes and a cab finally came. We hopped in, gave our destination, and the guy began to drive. Next to him was what I assumed to be his girlfriend, although she just as well could have been his sister. Either way, they were both hot messes.
About a minute into the trip, he asks my friend and me if we know where the closest liquor store is. We had no clue, and said as much. He takes a turn, saying he thinks one is down that particular street. Mind you, this is in the opposite direction from what we're supposed to be going. He finds the store, stops, and the woman gets out.
Five to ten minutes later, she emerges with a bag, and produces it when she gets in the cab. She opens it, takes a swig, and hands it to the cab driver...who also takes a swig. If we weren't already mortified enough, he offered us a swig as well as he began driving again.
By the time we reached our destination, we were kissing the ground that we were still in one piece. Unfortunately though, in our own semi-intoxicated state from the bar, neither of us remembered to get his cab information to report him.
My car had been dying at stoplights, so I took it into Ken Scales Automotive in Medford, Oregon. They cleaned off my throttle plate, replaced my leaky power steering hose (a problem I've known about for a while), and gave me my much-needed tune-up. I picked the car up that day, it ran better than it has in a year, and I was thrilled. The mechanics I dealt with that day were very nice and easy to deal with.
On the way home, however, I noticed that the gas gauge appeared to be broken. It was completely fine when I brought it in, so I called up the shop to alert them to the problem and see if I could sneak it in the next day (since I assumed it was their mistake).
the parents and i went to Williamsburg, VA, for a few days after visiting Philadelphia for the better part of a week. the hotel in Philly didn't have a pool or hot tub so i was delighted to see that the one in Williamsburg had both. so after we got in the first night and settled in the suite (two bedrooms and TWO bathrooms! this was the good service part, cuz we weren't expecting that size of a suite!), i put on the suit and gathered up my dad's borrowed watch (mine ain't waterproof), a towel and a couple books. the plan was to swim a few laps then go wind down in the hot tub.
i did the former....the pool was nice and warm, surprisingly. so i moved for the hot tub. there were two girls abt my age already in it.
granted the girls were probly sucky customers to a point, but i found the hotel staff's attitude to be very unprofessional. especially the maintenance guy, whose job it is to, if not fix that stuff, call someone who will.
my parents own a hot tub, as do several other ppl i know (granted the parents have an archaic model that takes awhile to heat up and they BARELY use it....but that's another story). jets are called jets for a reason--they don't bubble up and make a big fat mess when they're in proper working order. and hot tubs are SUPPOSED to be hot (hence their name).