Chapter 2; An Introvert Takes an Uber

One thing I have never gotten use to is when my introvertness flares up. Wait, is introvertness even a word? Well, according to SpellCheck it is not. Until now. I coined it, so I get to keep it. I recently had to take an Uber ride all by myself. Like a big boy. And I never though how uncomfortable it could be until the ride started.

Now, I’ve taken Uber rides before, usually maybe with one or two other people, on those rare times I feel social and buzzed enough to stay social. Generally, Uber rides are just safe ways to get from Bad Decision A to Bad Decision B on a weekend night. But this was a weekday, and I need to get my car from the shop. So I got on my Magic Box and summoned a driver. As soon as I got in the backseat and closed the door, I suddenly thought, “What the hell am I supposed to say?” My driver seemed like a fine guy; I’d even call him a fella. I just found myself wishing there was some sort of placard on his dashboard that either said “It’s OK not to talk” or “I accept small talk.” I felt some pressure to at least have some sort of conversation.

It was at this point I realized Uber is a Godsend for the alcoholic, but a claustrophobic nightmare for the introvert.

I found myself enjoying the odd position of being in the passenger side backseat as we traveled these very familiar roads. It was certainly a different perspective, and I saw things I never see when I drive right by them. I don’t know if there is some sort of generic chit-chat handbook for Uber drivers, but if there is, I am pretty sure I followed it to the tee. Banal questions like how his riders were. “How about the weather today?” Just frickin’ shoot me.

Maybe this would all be better if there was some sort of option on the app to let the driver know it’s OK not to talk.

And this is why I could never be an Uber driver. Not to mention I am a total slob in my car. I imagine there aren’t too many introvert drivers. The need for a few extra bucks is not worth the dread of multiple social interactions. With strangers who have cooties and do God knows what in the backseat.

Now, to be fair, he was a very pleasant guy….uh, fella. His car was clean and thankfully not playing music that sounds like I am shopping at the Foot Locker in the mall. I guess that’s just something the weekend drivers have to do.

So we continued to the shop. I did what most introverts do; looked at my phone most of the time. I’ll be honest, I don’t even think I had the web up. I was acting like I had a life. Like I was going to pick up my car and meet the guys for dart night. He dropped me off. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had my independence again.