Needy emotional vampires

Today was good, the drivers were very strange. 

I'll tell you about the last one, first.  I don't know what it is about the older white male drivers, but they make me uncomfortable.  Some, like todays', have obvious mental health and reality issues.  All of them are not very attentive. 

I like to talk.  I enjoy talking to my drivers, generally.  I like riding in the front seat.  Today, I said as little as possible and got into the back with Ron. 

Why, you may ask, did you do that, Heather?  Well, somewhere between the guy wanting Ron's phone number, the incredibly intense "Needy emotional vampire" energy he was giving off, and the "visions" he told us about on our last trip... I got a little uncomfortable.  Not only that, things he said - "My father spent most of my childhood in a mental institution", stuff like that, and veering all over the road because he got so excited about the conversation, cause me deep worry about our physical safety. 

Today he was angry because we talked to the other client, instead of him.  He made several comments, saying we "weren't allowed to talk to other clients, we could only talk to the driver".  Oh, boy.  Complete fallacy. 

For a while, when we first started riding, we had a female driver.  She was a cat collector.  Her hair was always greasy and unwashed, and she smelled of cat urine.  Her husband also drove, and everytime we rode with him we were subjected to  delusional tirades.  He was a secret agent.  His family was very wealthy.  He was very wealthy, but hiding it... and even more bizarre stuff. 

With those drivers, I thank God they do have the visual and auditory monitoring nowadays.  I understand it's difficult to find compotent, professional, contract drivers.  Not many people want to get up at 3 AM every day, and get off work at 6 or later.  Not many people want to deal with disabled people and their baggage (both literal and figurative).  I get it. 

I'm just glad they're keeping an eye, and ear on the guy.  Yike. 

The first guy was more typical.  I didn't appreciate the constant staring at my legs.  I wasn't wearing anything slutty, baggy workout shorts.  I was showing about 3 inches of thigh?  What is the deal?  I have legs, so what?   He wasn't offensive, but I kept looking everytime he did, wondering what was wrong!  Pretty funny!  They looked OK to me.  I shaved my legs and everything. 

Anyway, we got to our destination and I didn't worry about my safety. 

Years and years ago, when we first started riding the service, I saw a driver get an announcement beep on her computer.  They had given her another trip.  She pushed the button, saw the client's name, and swore violently. 

God help me, that's what I did when I saw our return driver today.