Pedal Taxi Driver - Part 1

As some of you know, I came to this great city to work for a company called Propeller. A nonprofit that incubates and accelerates social impact enterprises in the city. The accelerator programme that I wanted to work on didn't really kick off until March and it's worth noting that I had no concrete job offer when I flew here. Just a few very constructive conversations with Rob, their head of partnerships. I'm a great believer that you will never get the most out of life without taking calculated risks, and even some majorly stupid ones too. So I decided to bite the bullet and move here in January. This would give me a chance to settle in, enjoy Mardi Gras and then (hopefully) jump straight into bed with this awesome accelerator project.

I knew that in the interim I would need to get some paid work in order to keep me busy and prevent me from plundering what meager savings I had managed to accumulate. Turns out moving continents is expensive. Who knew? I was no stranger to restaurant and bar work but had promised myself five years ago that I would never put myself through it again. I explained this to my housemate Sophie and she told me that our neighbour, Will, had done something called 'Pedicabbing' and had pretty positive things to say about it.

At first I assumed Pedicabbing was a public transport service exclusively run for convicted pedophiles but I was thankfully mistaken. Although I wouldn't put something like that beyond the reach of America. Pedicabbing is in fact what we would call Rickshawing back in London. Those three wheeled, heavy duty tricycles usually ridden by a rather defeated looking Albanian in Piccadilly. Strapped for better ideas, I made some inquiries and got hold of someone called PJ, who ran the rather nefariously titled 'Cycle Taxi Unlimited.' We met up the next day and I was given a very clear set of handwritten instructions on how to get the licence.

Undeterred, I set about the process of acquiring one. Getting the license wasn't exactly a walk in the park. First you needed to brave the bureaucratic labyrinth that is City Hall. A dreary, 1970's mess of a building where a normal process that could be accomplished by a 5 year old in the real world takes about three hours and ten adults here. Once you've filled out the initial paperwork, you then need obtain a medical certificate to prove you're not blind or obese. In addition, you need to pass a drug test for ten different substances. You also need to pass an FBI background check. And finally, you need to pass an exam on the city ordinances and the way a pedicab operates.

Pedicab paperwork (not including the application form I submitted to City Hall)

The Pedicab test contained a few real brain busters like. 'If you start to feel dizzy on a pedicab do you A. drink a beer B. Keep going until you faint C. Shoot your passengers'....and so forth. Suffice it to say, it's the relentless bureaucracy that's going to trip you up if anything. Each of these tedious tasks needed to be completed in separate locations, spread thoughtfully around all corners of the city and at a total cost of about $100. A Grand Tour of bottom feeding industries for a city whose array of bizarre bureaucratic processes would make a Soviet clerk blush with envy.

Within a week of meeting PJ I was the proud owner of a newly minted licence. After a brief training session, I was left alone with my pedicab and told I could work the rest of the day. Before being completely abandoned, PJ refreshed me on how I actually made money doing this job.

You pay 30% of what you make for each shift. There are two shifts a day. AM (morning until 6pm) and PM (6pm onwards). You will never give back more than this percentage. However there is something called a 'Drop' for each shift. This is 30% of the average amount you are expected to make per shift. You get to keep everything you make over this amount. e.g. if the drop is $60 then they expect you to make $200 (30% of 200). You won't need to drop off more than $60, even if you make $300 for that shift. The harder your hustle and the better your luck, the more you make. Simple.

The people who pull in the best money, get the best shifts. A self-reinforcing system that was nakedly and unashamedly capitalist. If you aren't good, you didn't get good shifts and so gradually and with much wailing you begin slide down the totem pole into obscurity. Eventually becoming a 'sub,' or substitute. The Pedicabbing kiss of death. Only America could produce such an unforgiving system. It was sink or swim. And I'm not one for sinking.

And so I was off on my own. A three wheeled Travis Bickle, peddling my wares around the city. My own little yellow micro business. After a few shifts it became apparent that this was an absolute winner as service jobs go but it also had the capacity to break your heart. A fair chunk of your time is actually idle (unless you're working a busy shift). So you can just sit in the back seat and read a book in a spot with decent footfall and people come to you.

Every Pedicabber has their own style and their preferred hotspots but I concluded that since this is town stuffed full of hustlers and hawkers then the last thing people really want is another person trying to extract money them. I soon found that the less I looked like I gave a shit, the more people seemed interested in getting a ride. Humans just seem to love what they perceive they can't get. The hustling only begins once they get in the back of the taxi. Then they're all mine.

I had taken it upon myself to learn a few quirky anecdotes about the history of the city. Once upon a time I had acquired a History degree at university so it made sense to actually put this to some use for once. If a customer isn't in much of a hurry then I can hope to turn an initial 15 minute journey into an hour. According to the city ordinance we are supposed to charge a dollar per person per block. But there isn't really a meter so Pedicabbers can take some artistic license with this if they so wish. I've turned a number of 15 minute journeys into hour long jaunts because of the offer of a free history tour. For an hour one could usually grift between $80 and $100. Americans do love a bit of history. And, by American standards at least, there's plenty of it here to bullshit about.

On my first ever shift I took home around $120 in cash. Not a record but an excellent start, or so I was told. After that I was pretty hooked. During an average double shift I could read about about a quarter of a book, attempt to tan, get a serious cardio workout, have a few hilarious conversations with drunk tourists and then take home $350 for the privilege. During a busier shift that can rise to round $600. If you work during one of the city's many festivals you can make enough to buy a decent car in a weekend. Although a bad shift (And we've all had them) can be agonising. I've known people to take home $13 from six hours of work.

The harm to your self-confidence from a bad shift can be immeasurable and I've had to learn to put the bad ones behind me quickly. People have a real knack for sensing desperation. They can smell it on you. And no one wants to take a desperate pedicabber. Especially given how much they can cost. Sadly it wasn't going to make me a millionaire. But as service jobs go, it was just about perfect for what I needed. And it was flexible. I could stop for three months and come back without so much as a grumble.

In the next part, we delve more into the pedicab community and the actual experiences I've had being a pedicab driver. Look out for the article in a week or so.