Friday, September 16, 2016

On a car

A while back, my father-in-law was regaling to us a story about how Uber had failed him. It’s important to note that he only reluctantly agreed to try Uber on his son’s, my brother-in-law Matt’s, recommendation. These types of situations tend to go one of two ways: my father-in-law has success with the recommendation immediately, admits his skepticism was misinformed, and swears by said thing for the rest of his life (see: Apple products, "Homeland," Federal Pizza in Phoenix), OR you may never mention that thing again because it is the worst and it is dead to him (see: everything else).

Anyway, the gist of the story is this: My father-in-law contacted Uber to pick him up somewhere in the city; the Uber driver was having difficulty finding him; my father-in-law ended up getting in a vehicle that, for some reason, he thought was Uber but wasn’t; and he ultimately got charged $50 for canceling the Uber ride he had originally arranged. You might imagine how he feels about Uber.

Actually, you might, literally, imagine how he feels about Uber because throughout this story he kept referring to the company as something else altogether: Hoober or, more accurately, Hubert, with a heavy emphasis on the “H.” During this retelling, Matt initially corrected this pronunciation but—to our amusement—it was willfully ignored and repeated throughout. We privately chalked it up to my father-in-law’s Italian accent. Near the end of the story, as we approached the inevitable climax that proved my father-in-law was not in the wrong (he kind of was), he frantically searched for concrete evidence of such. Thankfully, he found a text proclaiming his innocence:




There is a lot to love about this, not the least of which is the mental imagery of my father-in-law sitting on top of a car named Hubert. It mostly, however, serves to account for the confusion that took place during this incident. Here is Uber looking for my father-in-law, while my father-in-law remains engaged in a frantic search for Hubert. It’s a wonder he made it home at all, much less in a vehicle that, to my knowledge, does not exist.

This could potentially mean that, in my father-in-law’s estimation, there is hope yet for Uber, although it’s highly unlikely. Suffice it to say, Hubert is dead.

If you would like to learn more about my father-in-law -- and why wouldn't you? -- please buy this book. Thank you.

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