On (Not) Having a Driver

Truth be told, the idea of a driver has always been a bit disconcerting. Of course, my family had them when I was growing up and living in the Philippines and Bangladesh. As I got older, though, I was not so interested in having my own as an expat. Mainly because it seemed so colonial and segregationalist.

I certainly didn't need a driver when I was in the Philippines doing dissertaion research. I even tried to ride only jeepneys during my time in Manila. That lasted only about a month until I got a lung infection from the pollution. After that experience, I reluctantly upgraded to taxis.

In Shanghai, we had the luxury of taking taxis everywhere, as we lived in downtown (Puxi) where they were cheap and abundant. In Beijing, though, we are required to live outside of the city because of our big dog. In the beginning, I tried taking taxis to work, but it was too far, too expensive and too unreliable. Getting a driver was inevitable.

We found Mr. Wang through our real estate agent. He came with a little four door Nissan and cost RMB 7,000 per month (about US$900). For that, I got a ride to and from work (one hour each way) and rides anywhere we wanted on Saturday or Sunday. Gas, insurance and the driver's monthly salary (RMB2,000 we learned) were all included. Not a bad deal.

Most importantly, he was a NICE GUY. He really tried to help us out, to get us things we needed and find us places to visit. Everytime we gave him a gift, he reciprocated. He was quiet during the drive to work, and very safe.

We tried very hard to treat him well. We let him go home if we were out to dinner, taking taxis home instead of making him wait until we were done. We gave him a one-month salary bonus at Chinese New Year AND at Christmas. I travel a whole bunch, so there were many weeks where he had nothing to do.

All in all, it was a fine arrangement, except for one tiny little thing. He was almost always late. If I asked him to pick me up at 7:30 a.m., he would pull in at 7:45, sometimes 8. It got so bad that I would tell him 7 a.m. if I had an urgent meeting that I could not miss. We - and by we, I mean Chris, who speaks excellent Mandarin now - had two very serious conversations with him this summer about the importance of being on time. We also said that if he was going to be more than 5 minutes late, he needed to call and let us know. It never happened. He did not learn.

Three weeks ago, I had an early flight, and he was supposed to pick me up at 6:00 a.m. I finally heard from him at 6:30 as I was racing to the airport in a taxi. So sorry, he said, I will be there in 15 minutes. Ummmm, no.

That was an awful morning. I barely made my flight to Hong Kong. The delay meant that I spent a very stressed out hour in the horribly long immigration line imagining alternate ways to get to my afternoon client meeting. Chris discussed the seriousness of the issue with him for me later that day, but it apparently made no difference.

Unfortunately, the same thing happened again this Monday morning. I was wiser this time and took a cab at 6:05 instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt. On my way to the airport, I called and woke Chris up and said - he must be fired. Had to be done. I would have done it myself, but Chris has experience firing people in China. Frankly, I wouldn't have been able to say it with nearly as much eloquence.

We would have let him go in October anyway, but we were planning on giving him an extra two months salary. Instead, I decided to send a clear message now (immediate and relevant feedback, as HR would say), in hopes of helping him learn what needs to be done for the next family. A harsh message, yes. Hopefully it was a good idea, for his sake.

So I began and ended this driver saga with a heavy heart. Hopefully, never again will we need a driver.