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.
