Rate Me 5-Star

You get the request, you accept the request. If I don’t call you, you won’t call me. After wasting each other’s time, we eventually meet. Now, we are on the road and you choose the longer route.

10 minutes into the trip, your mouth’s running like a tap. After abusing me for paying with card rather than cash, you try to engage me in a discussion. You think young men are unfortunate and they can’t get good wives anymore. You gossip about your last passenger; what she wore, what conversations she had and where she went. You think you are patronising me and you begin to furnish me with gist I didn’t request for. You force conversations even though I look tired and uninterested.

Your AC is on but I’m all sweaty. You drive like an angry mad man. You curse every other driver but your driving ain’t that great too. Now at the toll gate and you are asking me for cash. Suddenly, you don’t have cash. You claim to have spent it at all at the filling station we earlier drove into. In there, we spent about twenty minutes on a queue but you don’t care much because the passenger is paying.

We reach the tollgate and you say this is your first trip for the day. “I just dey come out,” you try to explain. First trip by 11:00pm? Interesting! I pay because I am too tired to enter #TeamPetty mode and follow you through the longer route.

After a horrific evening with you, we reach my destination. I’m already pissed and about to implode but you let me explode.

“Oga, no forget to rate me five-star o”.

“Okay Sir,” I respond.

As I rate him one-star, I begin to talk to myself.

Thunder fire you and 5-star Sir. What audacity!”

Hey, if you deserve to be rated you won’t ask for any.

 

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