Social Workers And Ministers on Wheels

     I was not trained in the ministry, or in drug and mental health counseling.  I wish I had, for those skills seem to be integral to the job description of a cab driver. You would think this was only about someone getting in your cab, telling you where they want to go, and you take them there; they pay you, and they are on their merry way. That is what happens in most circumstances, especially during the day when business people are on their cell phones and completely ignoring the taxi driver. There is nothing that says the fare must talk to the driver. Often, they do more then talk. In many cases you are called upon, directly or indirectly, to solve a crisis in their life. 
     One of the problems with the social services industry is there is a real lack of funding. People who are in real need of help are turned onto the streets. The cab driver becomes the social worker of last resort. We are handed over a lost cause that the system does not, will not, or has no clue how to help. That is when taxi charge vouchers kick in. 
     Hospital emergency rooms have billing arrangements with my cab company. They give us a call to pick up a patient (effectively just dumping them onto us) and the driver goes and picks them up. Many times it is to take them to some mental health place or alcohol rehab center. These State run agencies can only hold someone for a few days and then they are calling us again to take them to a flop house, or some place where their lives are going to magically transform. Considering most of those places are located in the worst parts of town where drugs and vice are rampant, the odds seem long to me. 
     I got a call to pick up this woman at the St. Joseph emergency room. The lady came out and had a travel voucher in her hand. The address was to a local detoxify center. She looked a little nervous and shaky at best. I asked her how she was doing. She said OK, and I proceeded to take her to the place. 
     In route, she asked if she could stop at a convenience store. There was one up ahead, so I pulled in. She got out and went inside. I picked up the newspaper as she went in and was not really paying attention. I heard the backdoor open as she got back in. I started the car up. 
     At this point, the Indian manager came running out yelling and screaming. “You fucking bitch, you pay for that beer.” I turned around and looked at her. 
“Where’s the beer?” I yell at her. She pulls it out from under her shirt and hands it to me. The manager is in the window angry as hell.  He says he is going to call the cops. I hand him the two bucks that should cover the tall boy Budweiser. I hand the beer back to her. 
     “Thank you’ she says to me. 
     “Why did you steel the beer?” I ask
     “I don’t have any money.”  She starts to cry. I let it go. I tell her I'm not mad at her, that I know what its like to want a drink. She should have just asked me for the money and I would have given it to her. I am making out pretty good on this charge, and I can just ad it to the back end.
     On our way to the center she tells me everything that could go wrong in her life has.  Her husband left her, she has not seen her son in a year, she is drunk, has no job, no place to live, you get the picture. Life is indeed tough for many people.
     The thing about alcohol is the individual develops a relationship with it.  It is so unlike other drugs. Booze becomes your best friend, at least, your most reliable friend. Face it, it is always there when you need it, you can’t say that about to many of your friends. When the problems mount in life, you can always turn to the bottle.  That is where the problem lies. 
     Instead of focusing on solving the issues you have, it becomes much easier to simply use your drug of choice.  You will clearly feel better about the situation and the moment; no longer have to deal with the pain.  The pain can be alleviated, and for the moment, you are fine. Unfortunately, your problems just get worse. 
     I can not tell someone they are an alcoholic.  Only they can make that determination.  I can ask you, however, if certain aspects of your life have become unmanageable. If so, then perhaps the kind people at AA can help.  Until that moment of knocking the denial down, nobody can help. That is what is so savage about addiction. 
     Love ones and friends will try to help.  They think that their efforts are useful.  I have learned the hard way that you are only prolonging the inevitable. The reality is that rock bottom in many cases is simply death.  The addict will take it all the way and there is nothing anyone can do. If you have a loved one with an addiction, walk away from them. They will never love you like the booze. Sorry to break this news to you. You will be doing the best thing you can do. 
     We pulled in front of the detoxify center and she had gotten her composer together, plus, finished the beer. She did get out, and walk bravely into the place. That really did surprise me.  I hope she got the help she needed and has pulled her life back together. 
     Many times I have taken people to these places and the just walk off.  They never bother to go in. They will beg me not to take them and want to be let off on some street corner where their clothes and stuff are hidden in a bush.  I can’t kidnap people, so I take them there and notify dispatch what happened. That happens a lot at mental health facilities. 

Once again...United Cab is Tampa's finest taxi company.

Comments

[Netagene]

Excellent article, Tim. I remember when I was driving for UC that I wound up getting a regular "special", an older lady, very well to do, lived on Davis Island, widow of a doctor, got to know her pretty well, so that she'd sometimes invite me in. It didn't take me long to figure out that she drank. She dressed real well, and always wore perfume. Once when she asked me into her kitchen, there was blood everywhere. She said she had killed a chicken (???) ... she died not long after - of cirrhosis of the liver ... that of course was what the blood was from and why she always wore perfume. Pitiful. She obviously was trying to drown her sorrows by "pickling" them.