When Fare come in Sweet and Stylish Deals

I’ve had my fair share of interesting passengers. Some talk your ear off, some sit in silence, and some… well; some don’t always have cash or a card to pay the fare. But every now and then, I get a ride that sticks with me not because of where we went, but because of how the fare was handled.

Here are two of those stories.

I was driving down Beach Street when a lady waved me down, looking for a cab. I pulled over, and as soon as she got in, she started speaking a different language. I smiled and asked, “Do you speak English?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

“So, where are we headed?” I asked.

“Chinatown,” she said. “Drop me off at Stockton and Washington.”

Fisherman’s Wharf to Chinatown isn’t far, so we got there quickly. Just as I was about to stop the meter, I noticed her hand reaching toward me. Being on duty in a cab with strangers, you learn to be aware of sudden movements, so I turned quickly to see what she was holding.

To my surprise, she had a clear box filled with cupcakes, half chocolate, half vanilla with cream frosting. I looked at her face, trying to figure out why she was handing them to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry, but can you take these cupcakes instead of money? I don’t have any cash right now. I’m about to open my bakery, and I’m a little short on funds.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

She nodded, dead serious.

“So, you’re saying you want to trade these cupcakes for the cab ride? And you’re running a bakery in San Francisco?”

She fidgeted nervously. “Yes… if you’d be willing. I’d be so grateful.”

I smirked. “Well, what other options do we have besides involving the police?”

She hesitated. “If you can stop by later at my bakery, maybe I’ll have some cash then.”

It was clear she was just trying to make ends meet. After a moment, I sighed and said, “You know what? Let’s make the trade. Leave the cupcakes, and have a great day.”

Her face lit up with relief. I’ll never forget that look.

“Hey, listen,” she said excitedly. “Whenever you’re working and want a cupcake, stop by for a snack, it’ll be on the house!”

I chuckled. “You better leave before I change my mind.”

She grinned. “No, seriously, it’ll be on the house!” she called out as she hopped out of the cab.

The cupcake trade wasn’t the first or last time someone tried to pay me in something other than cash. A few days later, I found myself in another unexpected situation, except this time, the payment wasn’t sweet, it was stylish.

It was Tuesday morning around 9 AM traffic was heavy. I picked up a guy on Valencia Street and 26th.

“Can you take me to Pine and Van Ness Avenue?” he asked.

As we started moving, I could hear him practicing something under his breath he sounded both excited and nervous. I figured he had an important day ahead.

As we got closer to his destination, I noticed he was carrying both a briefcase and a backpack. Then, in a whispering voice, he asked, “I’m sorry, but can I ask you for a favor?”

I assumed he wanted to make a stop before his final destination happens all the time. But instead, he pulled out three brand-new dress shirts, still neatly folded.

“Do you like any of these?” he asked.

I looked at them colorful, crisp, brand new.

“They all look nice,” I said.

“If you had to pick one for yourself, which one would it be?” he pressed.

I smiled. “I don’t usually wear dress shirts like these, but they do look good. Are you a salesman on your way to make a pitch?”

He kept whispering, sounding a little down. I started wondering was he just nervous about his interview, or was he worried about not making a sale? Who carries brand-new dress shirts in their backpack? And on top of that, he was dressed formally, like someone going somewhere important.

Then he replied, “I just want you to know I’m a family man. I’m looking for a job. In fact, I’m on my way to an interview right now.”

I nodded. “Hey, good luck! I hope you knock it out of the park.”

He sighed. “I have one problem… My budget is really tight. I don’t have enough to pay you.”

“How much do you have?” I asked.

“Five bucks.”

I paused for a moment, then said, “Hey, Don’t worry about it. Go ahead. Good luck I really hope you get this job.”

He looked grateful but still uneasy. “Thanks, but I can’t just leave like this, knowing I didn’t pay you.”

I smiled. “Maybe if you run into me again, you can pay the fare and tip me with a couple of beers.”

That made him relaxes a little. His voice returned to normal. “Please, pick one of the shirts,” he insisted. “They’re brand new. At least this way, I won’t feel like I robbed you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I picked one up and said, “Don’t worry, you’re not robbing me. But if I see you again, you better have those beers ready.”

He grinned. “We have a deal, Baba!”