I was a messenger in Chicago from…. goddammit it’s been a while… from about 2000 to 2003? You figure out very quickly that if you’re not willing to violate every rule out there, you’re not going to make very much money.
The real money is… well, there are “ways”.
Some guys would take a dive on the hood of a taxi, scream ‘I think you broke my leg’, and proceed to blackmail the driver (who did NOT want the cops investigating it, they could lose their license and quite possibly their immigration status). It should be said that I never did this.
Nor did I deliver, ahem, “things”. Contraband. Whatever you call it.
But I did have a good hustle with a few slimebag attorneys who’d use me as a process server. The one thing you can do as a messenger is slide your way into offices (even if you’re supposed to deliver to reception). I could sell the, “*listen, man, I’m just working my damn job, just like you. I’ve got eight other deliveries in my bag but this one* ***has to*** *get a signature from the recipient themselves*.” hard luck story. I had a quasi-honest, more-clean-cut-than-most look to me. And I could always get my mark. They didn’t realize what they were signing until I was at the elevator. Those lawyers paid very well for that.
But yeah the TLDR is if you weren’t willing to run every red light, go the wrong way up one way streets, etc etc…. you weren’t gonna eke out much of a living.
Oh, sorry, one last thing. There was this bar in the River North area called “Tumans Alcohol Abuse Center” that sold $1 PBR talls from 6-8 every day. If you were to go in there without cycling knickers and a jersey, you looked out of place. There would be 30-40 of us at the end of every day swapping war stories. There was an incredible camaraderie between messengers. You’d acknowledge one another like you were friends whenever you’d see one. Shitty, hard job with tremendous risk for hardcore injuries and no insurance.
SuperGr00valistic on
Lucas Brunelle’s predecessor
OutlawSundown on
Wonder where that guy is now.
maddyeti on
I heard Jack Casey was better.
SMCDA15 on
“I am the King of the street”
Amazing short clip, the guy was in the zone like some pro 5min away from the finish line.
dax660 on
Can you imagine knocking on the side of someone’s car today??
Narrow-Result2933 on
Thought this was a Kevin Bacon celebration post. Wrong r/
7 Comments
I was a messenger in Chicago from…. goddammit it’s been a while… from about 2000 to 2003? You figure out very quickly that if you’re not willing to violate every rule out there, you’re not going to make very much money.
The real money is… well, there are “ways”.
Some guys would take a dive on the hood of a taxi, scream ‘I think you broke my leg’, and proceed to blackmail the driver (who did NOT want the cops investigating it, they could lose their license and quite possibly their immigration status). It should be said that I never did this.
Nor did I deliver, ahem, “things”. Contraband. Whatever you call it.
But I did have a good hustle with a few slimebag attorneys who’d use me as a process server. The one thing you can do as a messenger is slide your way into offices (even if you’re supposed to deliver to reception). I could sell the, “*listen, man, I’m just working my damn job, just like you. I’ve got eight other deliveries in my bag but this one* ***has to*** *get a signature from the recipient themselves*.” hard luck story. I had a quasi-honest, more-clean-cut-than-most look to me. And I could always get my mark. They didn’t realize what they were signing until I was at the elevator. Those lawyers paid very well for that.
But yeah the TLDR is if you weren’t willing to run every red light, go the wrong way up one way streets, etc etc…. you weren’t gonna eke out much of a living.
Oh, sorry, one last thing. There was this bar in the River North area called “Tumans Alcohol Abuse Center” that sold $1 PBR talls from 6-8 every day. If you were to go in there without cycling knickers and a jersey, you looked out of place. There would be 30-40 of us at the end of every day swapping war stories. There was an incredible camaraderie between messengers. You’d acknowledge one another like you were friends whenever you’d see one. Shitty, hard job with tremendous risk for hardcore injuries and no insurance.
Lucas Brunelle’s predecessor
Wonder where that guy is now.
I heard Jack Casey was better.
“I am the King of the street”
Amazing short clip, the guy was in the zone like some pro 5min away from the finish line.
Can you imagine knocking on the side of someone’s car today??
Thought this was a Kevin Bacon celebration post. Wrong r/