Rimechapel
Duke
Inner Sanctum Nobility
♔ Champion ♔
- Local time
- Today 6:56 AM
- Messages
- 706
- Pronouns
- he/his
"Yep... I remember those days," the old, gray man laughed through his mustache. He sounded like he'd spent most of his life smoking, as though the only thing keeping his voice box from swelling with cancer was the constant influx of yet more carcinogens. He looked at John in the rear view mirror, watching him buckle up before he put the cab in drive.
".... What days?" John said, feeling more than a little offput by the presumptive old cab driver. John was in his late twenties, handsome enough to get a date if he remembered to shave his neckbeard. The anxiety he'd been quelling while standing on the curb was suddenly rising at the thought that this old man knew something he didn't.
"Job huntin' days," the old cabbie laughed, driving down the city street. "Pile o' burnin' garbage, innit?"
John shifted a little in the backseat of the cab, gradually becoming more and more certain that the aged faux leather wouldn't stick to his butt when he disembarked. Was his plight that obvious?
"It don't feel like it's okay... but it's gonna be okay, kiddo," the cabbie went on, nodding his head, a sure, calm look in his eyes as he suddenly braked when a truck ran a red light at the intersection. He took a cigarette from his pocket with one hand, holding the steering wheel lazily with the other, and somehow lit up with the car's cigarette lighter; John's view was obscured by the back of the front seat, but the little plume of smoke gave it away well before the old man took a deep drag. "Ride that wave of uncertainty. It's got power. You can harness it, use it to carry you on."
Straightening his tie a little and gulping, John stared at the back of the cabbie's head, amazed at the fact that this strange old man could somehow make an inspirational speech while pretending the deathtrap of downtown traffic was just the sort of thing you could idle through with a cigarette in one hand and absolutely zero fucks to give in the other. "I've got an interview. It's the second round." John breathed a hopeful little laugh, forcing a thin smile.
"Good! Hope it works out for ya." The cab rolled to a stop behind the vehicle in front of it. They were the last in a long, long line of cars, a long, long way from the next intersection. The distant traffic lights were blinking red. The cab driver turned slightly and extended his hand. "Name's Pete, by the by."
John grinned a little and shook his hand. "John! Nice to meet you, Pete." He glanced to the line of cars ahead, concern evident on his face for how long it seemed like it would take for everyone to trickle through one car at a time.
"What time's your interview?" Pete asked casually.
John looked at his watch and swallowed dryly. "In twenty minutes...."
Pete sighed. "Ahh, fuck this shit...." He palmed the wheel in circles, turning sharply to the right, and rolled into an alley. It was a narrow fit to begin with, and the trash bags, dumpsters, and fire escapes didn't make John feel any better as the cab trundled along at a brisk 15 MPH. Pete did not at all keep a steady course, moving to the right a little, then the left, wiggling along and somehow impossibly dodging every obstacle stacked up on either side of the towering apartment buildings. John clung to his seat with both hands, afraid he might cause the cab to overturn and burst into flames if he let go. Soon (although if it was the longest ninety seconds of John's entire life) they were emerging from the other side of the alley and onto the next street. Pete made a quick left across traffic while a Mercedes he just cut off honked at him loud and angrily. A man about John's age was behind the wheel of the Mercedes, and he screamed profanity at them furiously before screeching off. Pete just meekly smiled and apologetically waved. John wondered for a second if he would have been better off walking the six miles to the interview, even in the hot, humid summer sun, but eleven minutes later Pete stopped in front of their destination - a tall, sterile looking skyscraper - and grinned toothily at him.
"G'luck with your interview, kid!" the old man barked.
"Oh my god, thank you so much," John huffed, realizing he had been holding his breath more often than not, and shoved two $20 bills at the man.
Pete waved him off. "This one's on the house," he laughed, knocking the roof of the cab jovially. "Don't be late!"
John clenched his jaw and breathed a hard breath, feeling his vision cloud up a little as tears pricked his eyes. He scrambled out of the cab, ran into the skyscraper, and took the elevator to the 18th floor where his interview was to be.
It had been one disappointment after another, for John. Since he had been fired for misconduct four months ago, it felt like he had been continuously shunned by everyone in the personal lines insurance sector. It was kind of a stupid infraction; getting "too comfortable," and documenting his files with things that didn't actually happen. He did it just so that he didn't have to actually call people, or send letters, or take some action that would require actual "work" with people who didn't want to do anything except for lie or argue. He knew which files would move on to payment, and eventually closure, and which wouldn't. He had a system, which, while pretty gray from an ethical standpoint, allowed him to fast track the files where people wanted help and payment, while putting off the ones that just wanted to waste everyone's time with "principled arguments" and soft fraud. He'd been doing this seven years. It was always the same kinds of bullshit.
Until he got caught. He'd been so, so careful, until the company piloted a work-from-home arrangement. Some of his phone logs happened to get audited at the same time as his text files, and Compliance put two and two together. He was terminated later that week. In theory, during a reference check, his employer would never release details about his employment beyond verifying start and end dates. Even if that was so, it seemed every other personal lines insurance company to which he applied instantly took his slowly growing gap in employment as the result of termination for cause. He had been honest with the interviewers who asked him directly about the reason for his departure from his former employer - at least as honest as was flattering - and focused on emphasizing the lessons he had learned as a result of his termination. He began to become hopeless, watching his meager savings dwindle as one prospective employer after another turned him away - but never before the first or second round of interviews. He felt like he had ruined his chances of ever working a cushy job in insurance again. He felt like he had had one defining moment of dishonesty, which was something he'd observed plenty in his colleagues... but since he was the one who had been caught, he had been made an example. He was the anonymous guy the trainer would talk about during orientation, admonishing new hires to be overly scrupulous with documentation. He was the pariah, the parable. He was cast out.
He didn't get the job, that day Pete dropped him off in front of that pretty skyscraper. It wasn't the last time he bumped into Pete, nor was it the last time he went to that skyscraper for an interview with a different company. Pete didn't always wave his fee, but one time he took John to lunch with him, when John was on the way back from an interview and not in a rush. Pete introduced him to his friends and colleagues, who came from many varied backgrounds but always made time to get together for lunch on Fridays. There were churchgoers, felons, substitute teachers, and retirees, and more besides. Each of them was connected in some way to the taxi cab business in the city. Some currently drove, like Pete, some no longer drove but kept in touch anyway, and some were just close friends or relatives.
Between bouts of hunting for jobs, John made a point of continuing to go to lunch with Pete and his friends on Fridays. Each of the regulars was thrilled to see him every time, and he got to know all of them quite well. It pulled John out of a dark spot, emotionally, and he looked forward to Fridays with Pete. He was more or less brutally honest with his new friend group about the reason he was terminated. All of them nodded in solidarity and told their own stories about times they had been fired from one job or another. Where John had expected judgment, he found only camaraderie.
This went on for many months, until John's savings were nearly gone. Unbidden, he decided to apply for work at the cab company. Less than a day later, he got a call from the company, asking when he could start. Pete was surprised but thrilled, and took him under his wing. John wasn't a bad driver to begin with, and he learned pretty quickly how to contend with the ruthless roadway culture downtown - in large part thanks to Pete's coaching.
The years passed, and John mostly forgot about pursuing the industry that had long since forgotten about him. He used his knowledge of insurance to help his newfound friends - whom at some point he began to think of as family - to get better rates on their insurance premiums, or negotiate claim settlements without the need for involving an attorney. These were rarer occurrences, but they always looked at him like he was some kind of magician when he got worked his not-really-magic... just like he looked at them when they taught him tricks of the trade, shortcuts, and social dynamics.
Sadly, Pete passed away about six years after John started working with him. Cancer finally caught up with the man. For as severe as his condition was, it was a mercy that his passing was quick. Everyone at the cab company mourned Pete's passing. Some of his friends said he was in a better place now, but John wondered about that; there was nowhere Pete ever seemed happier to be than in this hellhole of a downtown, getting folks from point A to point B, quick and kind as you like.
John's life went on, more or less following in Pete's treadmarks. It was humble work, but he felt satisfied. Accepted. Before he knew it, he'd been driving a cab for twenty years. One day, he stopped for a young man in a suit, who was hailing him in a frantic way. The nervous young man settled into the back of the cab, anxiously breathing thanks and asking to be dropped off at the steps of a familiar old skyscraper. John grinned in a comforting way at the young man in the back seat, and brought him there - skirting a construction site on one road, and a traffic jam on another. He stopped in front of the skyscraper, turned over his shoulder, gave an encouraging nod and smile, and waved away the money the young man was offering him.
"G'luck with your interview, kid!"
Inspired by a true story.
".... What days?" John said, feeling more than a little offput by the presumptive old cab driver. John was in his late twenties, handsome enough to get a date if he remembered to shave his neckbeard. The anxiety he'd been quelling while standing on the curb was suddenly rising at the thought that this old man knew something he didn't.
"Job huntin' days," the old cabbie laughed, driving down the city street. "Pile o' burnin' garbage, innit?"
John shifted a little in the backseat of the cab, gradually becoming more and more certain that the aged faux leather wouldn't stick to his butt when he disembarked. Was his plight that obvious?
"It don't feel like it's okay... but it's gonna be okay, kiddo," the cabbie went on, nodding his head, a sure, calm look in his eyes as he suddenly braked when a truck ran a red light at the intersection. He took a cigarette from his pocket with one hand, holding the steering wheel lazily with the other, and somehow lit up with the car's cigarette lighter; John's view was obscured by the back of the front seat, but the little plume of smoke gave it away well before the old man took a deep drag. "Ride that wave of uncertainty. It's got power. You can harness it, use it to carry you on."
Straightening his tie a little and gulping, John stared at the back of the cabbie's head, amazed at the fact that this strange old man could somehow make an inspirational speech while pretending the deathtrap of downtown traffic was just the sort of thing you could idle through with a cigarette in one hand and absolutely zero fucks to give in the other. "I've got an interview. It's the second round." John breathed a hopeful little laugh, forcing a thin smile.
"Good! Hope it works out for ya." The cab rolled to a stop behind the vehicle in front of it. They were the last in a long, long line of cars, a long, long way from the next intersection. The distant traffic lights were blinking red. The cab driver turned slightly and extended his hand. "Name's Pete, by the by."
John grinned a little and shook his hand. "John! Nice to meet you, Pete." He glanced to the line of cars ahead, concern evident on his face for how long it seemed like it would take for everyone to trickle through one car at a time.
"What time's your interview?" Pete asked casually.
John looked at his watch and swallowed dryly. "In twenty minutes...."
Pete sighed. "Ahh, fuck this shit...." He palmed the wheel in circles, turning sharply to the right, and rolled into an alley. It was a narrow fit to begin with, and the trash bags, dumpsters, and fire escapes didn't make John feel any better as the cab trundled along at a brisk 15 MPH. Pete did not at all keep a steady course, moving to the right a little, then the left, wiggling along and somehow impossibly dodging every obstacle stacked up on either side of the towering apartment buildings. John clung to his seat with both hands, afraid he might cause the cab to overturn and burst into flames if he let go. Soon (although if it was the longest ninety seconds of John's entire life) they were emerging from the other side of the alley and onto the next street. Pete made a quick left across traffic while a Mercedes he just cut off honked at him loud and angrily. A man about John's age was behind the wheel of the Mercedes, and he screamed profanity at them furiously before screeching off. Pete just meekly smiled and apologetically waved. John wondered for a second if he would have been better off walking the six miles to the interview, even in the hot, humid summer sun, but eleven minutes later Pete stopped in front of their destination - a tall, sterile looking skyscraper - and grinned toothily at him.
"G'luck with your interview, kid!" the old man barked.
"Oh my god, thank you so much," John huffed, realizing he had been holding his breath more often than not, and shoved two $20 bills at the man.
Pete waved him off. "This one's on the house," he laughed, knocking the roof of the cab jovially. "Don't be late!"
John clenched his jaw and breathed a hard breath, feeling his vision cloud up a little as tears pricked his eyes. He scrambled out of the cab, ran into the skyscraper, and took the elevator to the 18th floor where his interview was to be.
It had been one disappointment after another, for John. Since he had been fired for misconduct four months ago, it felt like he had been continuously shunned by everyone in the personal lines insurance sector. It was kind of a stupid infraction; getting "too comfortable," and documenting his files with things that didn't actually happen. He did it just so that he didn't have to actually call people, or send letters, or take some action that would require actual "work" with people who didn't want to do anything except for lie or argue. He knew which files would move on to payment, and eventually closure, and which wouldn't. He had a system, which, while pretty gray from an ethical standpoint, allowed him to fast track the files where people wanted help and payment, while putting off the ones that just wanted to waste everyone's time with "principled arguments" and soft fraud. He'd been doing this seven years. It was always the same kinds of bullshit.
Until he got caught. He'd been so, so careful, until the company piloted a work-from-home arrangement. Some of his phone logs happened to get audited at the same time as his text files, and Compliance put two and two together. He was terminated later that week. In theory, during a reference check, his employer would never release details about his employment beyond verifying start and end dates. Even if that was so, it seemed every other personal lines insurance company to which he applied instantly took his slowly growing gap in employment as the result of termination for cause. He had been honest with the interviewers who asked him directly about the reason for his departure from his former employer - at least as honest as was flattering - and focused on emphasizing the lessons he had learned as a result of his termination. He began to become hopeless, watching his meager savings dwindle as one prospective employer after another turned him away - but never before the first or second round of interviews. He felt like he had ruined his chances of ever working a cushy job in insurance again. He felt like he had had one defining moment of dishonesty, which was something he'd observed plenty in his colleagues... but since he was the one who had been caught, he had been made an example. He was the anonymous guy the trainer would talk about during orientation, admonishing new hires to be overly scrupulous with documentation. He was the pariah, the parable. He was cast out.
He didn't get the job, that day Pete dropped him off in front of that pretty skyscraper. It wasn't the last time he bumped into Pete, nor was it the last time he went to that skyscraper for an interview with a different company. Pete didn't always wave his fee, but one time he took John to lunch with him, when John was on the way back from an interview and not in a rush. Pete introduced him to his friends and colleagues, who came from many varied backgrounds but always made time to get together for lunch on Fridays. There were churchgoers, felons, substitute teachers, and retirees, and more besides. Each of them was connected in some way to the taxi cab business in the city. Some currently drove, like Pete, some no longer drove but kept in touch anyway, and some were just close friends or relatives.
Between bouts of hunting for jobs, John made a point of continuing to go to lunch with Pete and his friends on Fridays. Each of the regulars was thrilled to see him every time, and he got to know all of them quite well. It pulled John out of a dark spot, emotionally, and he looked forward to Fridays with Pete. He was more or less brutally honest with his new friend group about the reason he was terminated. All of them nodded in solidarity and told their own stories about times they had been fired from one job or another. Where John had expected judgment, he found only camaraderie.
This went on for many months, until John's savings were nearly gone. Unbidden, he decided to apply for work at the cab company. Less than a day later, he got a call from the company, asking when he could start. Pete was surprised but thrilled, and took him under his wing. John wasn't a bad driver to begin with, and he learned pretty quickly how to contend with the ruthless roadway culture downtown - in large part thanks to Pete's coaching.
The years passed, and John mostly forgot about pursuing the industry that had long since forgotten about him. He used his knowledge of insurance to help his newfound friends - whom at some point he began to think of as family - to get better rates on their insurance premiums, or negotiate claim settlements without the need for involving an attorney. These were rarer occurrences, but they always looked at him like he was some kind of magician when he got worked his not-really-magic... just like he looked at them when they taught him tricks of the trade, shortcuts, and social dynamics.
Sadly, Pete passed away about six years after John started working with him. Cancer finally caught up with the man. For as severe as his condition was, it was a mercy that his passing was quick. Everyone at the cab company mourned Pete's passing. Some of his friends said he was in a better place now, but John wondered about that; there was nowhere Pete ever seemed happier to be than in this hellhole of a downtown, getting folks from point A to point B, quick and kind as you like.
John's life went on, more or less following in Pete's treadmarks. It was humble work, but he felt satisfied. Accepted. Before he knew it, he'd been driving a cab for twenty years. One day, he stopped for a young man in a suit, who was hailing him in a frantic way. The nervous young man settled into the back of the cab, anxiously breathing thanks and asking to be dropped off at the steps of a familiar old skyscraper. John grinned in a comforting way at the young man in the back seat, and brought him there - skirting a construction site on one road, and a traffic jam on another. He stopped in front of the skyscraper, turned over his shoulder, gave an encouraging nod and smile, and waved away the money the young man was offering him.
"G'luck with your interview, kid!"
Inspired by a true story.