Are you kidding driver of a smelly cab?

Oh I'm sorry. When I pay for a good or service there is an understood agreement between me, the buyer, and you, the provider of said goods or services. When I give you my hard earned money I expect to leave the purchasing experience satisfied. So why are you surprised that when I open up the door to your cab and get smacked in the face with one of the worst oders I've ever smelled I'm a little pissed off. Are you kidding driver of a smelly cab? If I wanted to smell a copious amount of onion/used gym sock/weird spices, I would have gone running and then sniffed my spiced onion stuffed socks for 10 minutes while being driven up town. But oddly enough that usually isn't the case when it's raining/I'm running late/any other reason I have for taking a cab. Instead, I have to drive down Park Ave where the only cars with heads out their windows are your cab and the people driving with their dogs. And don't think I don't see you giving me weird looks through the rear view mirror. I do. And I also know that when you repeatedly talk on your phone, glance back at me, start laughing and start talking on your phone again, that you are talking about me. Because let's be honest. Everyone who can speak a language besides English basically gets a free pass to talk about people right in front of them. (At least that's what I would do.) But the best part is you look surprised/disappointed/pissed when I don't leave you a good tip. If you were at a fine restaurant and every time the waiter was leaving your table, he turned and his ass was in front of your face, and he farted would you leave him a tip? I didn't think so. Maybe you should take the dollar that I did leave you and go buy one of those hanging pine trees, a bottle of Febreeze, or a can of gasoline and a match? Why the last one you ask. Because if my job was to drive around in a car that smelled like that, I'd sure as hell burn it.