Memoirs of a Rideshare Driver: The Recruiter
Episode 6 in a series of true rideshare stories
He’s in his mid-twenties, dressed in a Navy uniform, and his wife is a little younger. She barely says a word, he barely stops talking. He's one of those people who is quick to get a stranger's whole story. Immediately upon sitting down, he's asking me where I'm from, what else I do, what's my biggest passion, what keeps me from a career in that, where have I traveled, where would I like to travel.
A lot of self-help books will tell you, when you meet new people, to focus on talking about them and not yourself. It’s true. Almost all of us like talking about ourselves, and when someone is interested and welcoming, we tend to like them. But when someone is particularly focused on it, sometimes it feels shady. Maybe it’s that I write a lot of thriller fiction and the charming guy with an ulterior motive is an old trope, but I feel I’ve written this guy before. He's friendly, likable, and fascinated to know everything about you. He's always got a follow-up question pre-loaded, and he'll get it out faster than you can bounce one back at him. If you do manage to ask him a question, he'll answer it, but he'll answer it in a way that reflects something right back at you, because he doesn't really want to talk about himself. He wants to talk about you.
We're about 10 minutes into a 35-minute drive, talking about travel, when he finally says, "That’s interesting. Have you ever thought about the Navy? It might be a really good fit for you."
I'm caught off-guard. A recruiter hasn't set his sights on me since high school. I'm in my mid-thirties now. I'm not exactly low-hanging fruit.
I try to politely tell the guy I'm not interested and he goes all used car salesman. “What would I have to do to put you in a brand new goofy hat today?” He's clearly good at his job, gauging a 35-minute ride just right to spend 10 minutes gathering intel, still leaving himself 25 minutes for the pitch and the close. But if coffee is for closers only, he'll have to stick with tea this morning. I’m no Glengarry lead. Nobody's convincing me to join the Navy on a whim at this stage in my life.
But God, it's a long 25 minutes. It's been too long since I've done this. I've forgotten the good techniques. “Gee, that sounds great! Does it matter that I'm a heroin-addicted Canadian pacifist with three felonies on my record?”
I'm not sure how the idea gets into my head, but a part of me wonders if he has a bet going with his wife. “You give me half an hour and I can recruit anybody. Watch this. I'll get our rideshare driver interested.” If that's the case, he's probably disappointed at the end when he asks, “So on a scale of one to ten, how interested would you be in following up on this later?” and I say, “Uh... one is the lowest, right?”
I'm relieved when I finally bid them goodbye and head to the next place. I tell myself that if this ever comes up again, I'll be ready. The next time someone tries to spend their car ride recruiting me or selling me something, I’m turning the tables and trying to convert him to Satanism. Every time he makes a pitch. “What do you think rideshare offers you that a career in the Navy wouldn't?” “Oh, I don't know, man. I just think Satan is putting me where he wants me. I notice you keep changing the subject when I bring up Satan. Is there something about Satan that makes you uncomfortable? Because I know there are a lot of misconceptions...”
On and on. And I’ll give myself a perfect score if I can get him to say, “Well… maybe Satan put me here to tell you about this opportunity...?”
Because then I can go, “The thought had occurred to me, dude. The thought had certainly occurred to me.”
Memoirs of a Rideshare Driver is a series that tells true stories of my 10,000+ trips as a rideshare driver. I will post them every Monday.