I just dropped off a rider—her name is Mariel. When I picked her up, she got into the car and said she was headed downtown. I casually mentioned that I live downtown, near the Walt Disney Concert Hall.
She smiled, said, “That’s fire,” and then, just like that, she put on her headphones. And I got angry. Yeah, I’m admitting it.
That stupid, bubbling rage started to rise. Why? Because I’m insecure. My mind started spinning: How could she put on her headphones like I don’t matter?
Isn’t that rude? I caught myself thinking she should be giving me attention, talking to me—acknowledging me. I mean, wasn’t I the one driving her, providing a service, doing her a favor?