Once upon a time, you could sit in peace in a cab. You could get in, tell the cab driver where you wanted to go with little explanation, and you could trust the driver to take you in a knowledgeable manner to your destination. Perhaps you’d even get a bit of off-kilter conversation, enough to open a wee window on the world of People Not Like You. Not so, anymore.

A recent spate of worse than usual cab action has prompted us to turn our hating eye on NYC cabbies. Within the past few weeks, I’ve listened to a cabbie toggle through his ringtones (”I just got a new cell phone, I’m trying to set up the voicemail and ringtones”) for 20 minutes straight. And then there was the time it was raining and I got passed up — unlawfully I might add — by two on-duty cabs for a ride to the airport.

Of course that’s not to mention the at this point completely standard, but no less annoying and unprofessional behavior: ceaseless cell phone chatter, borderline ignorance about any non-numbered Manhattan street and how to get there, and stubborn attitude about actually dropping you off at your requested destination.

Incidentally, excerpts from the TLC:

What is the law for cell phone usage and taxicab drivers? From Driver Rule 2-25h (in PDF):
According to the Taxi and Limousine Commission rules, drivers are not allowed to use cellular phones or any communication device, hands free or otherwise, while operating a cab.

& the entertaining Taxicab Rider Bill of Rights:

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I’m sure many of you were waiting with fingers poised over your keyboards, eager to bash the next post from The Hater. Unfortunately, Dan will not be writing for BBalle as our Hater of all things bankerly, so please refrain from lame comments directed at him. Direct them at us. Anyway, we’ve revised the concept a bit and will just use it as a forum to express all of the things we hate in general, in some cases pertaining to bankers and banking, and in others, pertaining to Things in General. We begin with one of our most hated hoaxes.

A few times a year, NYC plays this big trick on the eating body called “Restaurant Week.” The concept is a noble one: a three-course prix-fixe lunch is $24.07 and a three-course prix-fixe dinner for $35.00 at some of the city’s finest restaurants. Well heck, who wouldn’t take that opportunity to sample famed food at a cheapie price?

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Welcome to my column. Let me introduce myself. I’m Dan Ahdoot, and I’m a professional comedian. That’s a job that requires some sort of artistic ability – something NONE of you are familiar with. I am not fond of you guys. Finance people bother me immensely.I think there could be a couple of explanations to my hate.

Maybe it’s because you guys make so much money, and still can never explain what it is you do. (Or maybe you can explain it, but my brain, as a defense mechanism, shuts down every time I hear the word “hedge” or “equity” or whatever else you people do). More