I’m new to Uber. I just moved from a town where there are zero stoplights and no fast food restaurants to one of the most populous cities in the nation. I’ve had a car here for a total of three weeks, and I’ve been in about four situations that should have ended with, “A Michigan man was killed today when he drove backwards down a one-way listening to Kid Rock with the windows down. While police say no foul play is suspected, witnesses concur that it appeared as though he was doing absolutely nothing wrong.”
That being said, I’ve been Uber’ing a lot. And when I say, “a lot,” I mean that I spent over $200 on Ubers in my first weekend here. I’ve had everything from French dudes to retired guys with Mexican timeshares. Just last week I had an Uber driver offer me a bedroom in her apartment as her third roommate. And this driver wasn’t some like creep with no friends. She was a super cute girl who was not only my age, but does parkour and gave me a list of solid bars to check out. I mean, even though I’m not living with her, I kind of want to chill with her and talk about foreign film and shit. Needless to say, she probably gave me five stars.
I was told early in the game that I was rocking the straight 5.0, and it’s been a huge source of my anxiety to maintain that. Being someone that needs constant reassurance and coddling, knowing that an Uber driver doesn’t love me is officially one of my worst nightmares. To help ease my Uber-Scaries, I enlisted the help of my friends to ensure I keep my rating on fleek.
“The best way to get out of here is doing a u-turn.”
Even if you’re lying and it’s not that hard to get out of your neighborhood, who is your Uber driver to not respect your kind tip with the intention of making his life a little easier? If he knows the area like the back of his hand, he’s just going to think you’re an idiot. But he’d have to be a real geography stickler to knock a star off your rating when it’s all said and done.
That being said, I’m no Sacagawea. Last night, I thought I was heading to downtown Austin, and I pretty much ended up in Waco. But my intentions? They’re pure, and that’s all that matters when you’re talking to your Uber driver.
“Hey, so can you see my Uber rating before picking me up? What was it?”
This is like your girlfriend asking if her dress makes her look fat. If your rating is bad, he’s going to feel awful telling you that and will probably bump you up a bit once you flash the baby blues and turn on the charm. And if your rating is baller as hell? Then all of the sudden you’re talking to your Uber driver about how awesome you are and he’ll give you five stars simply through osmosis. Unless he’s a real prick, he’s not going to wanna ruin your perfect game.
“Is there anything you want to listen to?”
If you’re not connecting your Uber app to your Spotify account and taking requests from your driver, then I want to talk to your mother and ask why she raised such a heathen. You don’t just roll into someone else’s house, take their remote, and throw on your own Netflix account. You’re in their world now.
“Yeah, but Will, why not just let them play their own music instead of connecting your phone?” Because you’re trying to build that 5-star rapport. If you just sit silently in the back like a wallflower, he’s going to think you’re a square and hit you with four stars.
“Five stars, baby. Five stars.”
As you stumble out of the car and shut the door, drop a “five stars, baby, five stars!” line to one of your friends so your driver can audibly hear it. Not only does it signal that you’re going to rate your driver highly, but it’ll make him chuckle at the same time. Everyone says the best way to a girl’s heart is by making her laugh, and the same goes for Uber drivers. He’s going to be all like, “Man, that dude was hella funny” before moving on to his next client.
Last weekend, one of my roommate’s called an Uber for our other roommate and was greeted the next morning by being told, “Yeah, you definitely don’t have a 5-star rating anymore. I 100% passed out in that Uber you got for me last night.” While I respect the hell out of his Riding of The Wave, I now know to only call Ubers for him from his own phone and not mine.
Remember when your college girlfriend would have one too many and you’d have to haul her back to her place to put her to bed so she wouldn’t wake up on your friend’s couch? Now imagine not knowing someone and having to do that. You don’t like people coming into your place of work and passing out, do you? Didn’t think so. .
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