More than eight billion people live on planet Earth. I’ve had more than 19,000 of them in my car in the last eight years. None of them are alike, nor do they share the exact same life experience. Here are three of them.
Story #1.
I picked up Dave. He remarked, “I like the interior of your VW Tiguan. How do you like this car?”
“I love it! I had never heard of it before I bought it,” I said.
“I travel all over the country and have become quite an expert on cars since I rent so many,” he said. “I live in Washington, but I keep a pickup truck in Oregon. My job requires a lot of travel, so I Uber or rent to get around.”
“What kind of work do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a plasma scientist,” he said.
Of course, I assumed he was talking about blood. Nope!
“No, not the blood kind. You’re familiar with plasma TVs, but most people don’t know how ever-present our products are in today’s world. We use graphene in the tinting on your windshield, your eyeglasses, and even the brass doorknob replacements in homes. My colleagues and I spend all our waking hours finding new uses for graphene.”
(I looked up the word ‘graphene’ later to better understand what he was saying. Graphene is a carbon allotrope consisting of a single layer of atoms arranged in a honeycomb planar nanostructure. Yep, that’s what I thought!)
We reached our destination, a small, nondescript house in the middle of nowhere.
“This gentleman is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He has discovered a new use for graphene in his little lab out behind his house,” said Dave.
As I drove away, I was amazed at the level of intelligence in that house. You never know!
Story #2.
Uber tells us to give our riders five minutes to reach our car. I usually give a little more. I hate the thought of them having to start the process all over again. This young lady pushed that to the limit.
She plopped herself in the seat behind me and sighed. It was dark outside.
“How’s your day going?” I asked.
“I’m so tired. I don’t want to work tonight, but I have to,” she said.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a dancer. I need to raise $3,000.00 more to buy a car. I live in New Jersey. I lost my last car because I took everyone everywhere. They all took advantage of me. I came down here to Florida because cars are so expensive up there,” she said quietly.
“My job up there didn’t pay enough to let me stay with my four kids, so I have to do this to get back on my feet.”
I asked, “What job did you do up there?”
She snapped back, “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“I just care, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
She said, “I’m a CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant. I was paying more than half of my pay to take Uber back and forth to work. I found a car down here, and I can get it with $3,000.00 more dollars.”
“I pray all the time that God will let me have enough to stop doing this. Some of the strippers in our club have had men give them a car. Maybe tonight God will let someone buy me a car.”
“I know I could get what I need if I did what some of the others do, but I don’t want to stoop that low.” (Lots of descriptive expletives deleted here.)
She begins crying—first, a few sniffles, then sobs.
“Do you have any tissues? I’m sorry about this. I hate what I do. I’m praying that God brings me help. I’m just gonna open up to the men tonight and tell them what I need. I have to have a car. I can’t go back without it.”
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’ll be praying for you and your children.”
She and I weren’t praying for the exact means, but I think we were aiming for the same results. When we reached the club, she sat for a few minutes to catch her breath. Then, she slowly walked through the door.
Story #3.
I’ve picked up this young lady a few times before. There was something different about her. She worked at a resort hotel. I asked her how her day was going.
“Not too good. Some people at work don’t like me. My boss put me in a different section. I didn’t like the people in the first section because they were mean to me. I like my new job because I have my own office.”
“Some of them think I can’t do my job because I’m special needs. But my boss thinks I can do a good job. I love the people I work with now. They like me and tell me I’m doing a good job.”
“You must be a good worker! They seem to really want your help,” I told her. “Your boss must be proud of you!”
“She is!” she said, “My Dad tells me to keep trying. He tells me I’m a wonderful person and always is proud of me. He’s not my real Dad; he’s my stepdad. My mom married another man, but my stepdad is who I live with.”
That was my first ride. Since then, I always ask how her job is going. She says it’s sometimes tough, especially if a customer complains about not getting a towel to them quickly enough. But she says her boss tells her it’s not her fault.
I enjoy talking to her. Her “special needs” seem to emphasize her true feelings. The last time I dropped her off, she said everything.
“My Dad is always proud of me, and that’s all that matters!”
So true.
Triversity, indeed!
***
(I hope you will stay in touch. I’ll be releasing my book on July 15th. The text and cover are finished. Now, we’re in the formatting process. We’re also updating the website. I’ll let you know as soon as I have more information. I appreciate your support!)
Thanks, and God Bless,
Tommy