Old School

Getting back home from dinner had two options: public transportation or Lyft. Given that there were three of us (myself and my parents), I opted for Lyft. It would be faster and only 10$ more than all three of us taking multiple transfers between different transportation systems.

Plus, it turned out the recent heat wave (100°F plus mugginess) caused some power outages. Not sure the public transportation systems (electric based) would even be running.

So our driver was Azeem, who had been in the area for a few years and came from Afghanistan. He chuckled at my father’s request for turning up the AC; it had already been on, but he wanted it full blast. He politely turned it up.

He was neither the chattiest nor the quietest of Lyft drivers I have encountered over the last few months (I have been using Lyft more because of the buses I must catch to go part of my journey home do not run on a more frequent basis. If I miss it, I will have to wait a full half hour or 45 minutes for the next.) Even so, he was friendly, and I made sure to mark that in giving feedback. I also always write comments; tonight it was my gratefulness for his air conditioned car for a 30 minute ride.

As we made it to our destination, Azeem parked to let us out. My mother and I exited, but my father remained in the car: “Wait!” he says, “Did you tip him?”  He pulled out his wallet and is going through his bills.

“Dad, that’s in the app.”

“Wait, he needs a tip.”

“You tip in the app.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get the tip.” 

To the Lyft driver, I say, “Sorry, he’s old school. He thinks you are a cab.”

He just smiles, amused, and then grateful when my father hands him a twenty dollar bill before exiting his car.

I tipped him in the app anyway.

Shooting the Messenger

The scene at dinner:

[I am seated with my mother, father, elder brother S, and his partner O. It is a charming, old Italian restaurant with dark red tablecloths and curtains, plus pretty Tiffany-style lamps for each table.]

Mom: I messed up on Facebook. I’m so confused by Messenger.

O: What did you do?

Mom: I don’t know what happened. I was trying to create a group on Facebook, and next thing I know, I’ve sent a bunch of messages to people, and they’re all saying they aren’t interested. So I deleted my page.

S: You were trying to create a group? I am confused. What were you doing?

Me: Were you just trying to make a group list of your contacts, like for privacy permission?

Mom: Yeah.

Me: Ohhh. I bet Messenger sent a bunch of messages to people in your contacts telling them you joined Messager–and Facebook then will try to get them to download the Messenger app if they try to view new messages while on mobile.

Mom: I think that is what happened.

Me [ready to stab a steak knife through the table]: I HATE THAT MESSENGER SHIT.

[The table breaks out into laughter.]

O: So tell us how you really feel.

The Introverted Social Butterflies

At the happy hour, I mingled with a few different people, forcing myself to be a social butterfly–a truly concerted effort for an introvert like me.

I was amused when Sarah, who worked at Idealist, said she had accomplished her goal and was ready to leave: she had spoken to at least 5 different people. I immediately started to count in my head how many people I had spoken to and wondered if I should do the same. Being social–it can be so exhausting!

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