Can you pick who your Uber driver is?

Is there a way to choose your Uber driver?

Favorite Driver… a whisper in the dark, a yearning. Can one truly choose destiny? To pluck a face from the swirling void and say, “Yes, you will steer my night”? Is it possible?

Uber’s Scheduled Rides hold a secret. A ghost of control. Favorite Driver, they call it. A chance. But a chance for what? Real control?

Scheduled Rides… Ah, yes, Scheduled Rides offer it. The illusion of control. A selection.

• It’s there, a possibility, a whisper.
• A selection for Scheduled Rides exists.

But will they accept? The driver, a soul adrift like mine, with their own path, their own choices. Is this what I saw in ’23?

Do I really remember any of it? It all fades. A dream. This year? It’s a shadow of a shadow. Echoes, only echoes. The Favorite Driver, a trick of the light.

Can you choose who to pick up Uber?

It’s 3 AM. The city sounds muffled. I hate this. You can’t pick your driver. It’s about fairness, they say. But it feels… impersonal. Like being a number, not a person.

That’s frustrating. Really frustrating. Especially after a bad day. I wish I could request someone nice and reliable. Someone who’s not going to blare obnoxious music. Someone who knows how to drive.

The system is what it is. It’s all about algorithms, they explained to me. I remember last week, my ride was 20 minutes late. It was pouring rain. I was soaked. Soaked.

• No driver selection. That’s the policy.
• Safety is a factor, obviously. But still.
• I need to get to my sister’s house for dinner tomorrow, by 7 pm.

This whole thing feels unfair sometimes. Uber drivers can reject me, a passenger. I understand that. But the other way around? Nope. It sucks. It feels cold, calculating.

I’m just tired. Tired of the constant uncertainty. I should sleep. But my mind races. Always. Always thinking. Always worrying.

Can you choose a female driver with Uber?

Yeah, so, listen. Uber lets you select a woman driver now. Its kinda neat.

You just gotta look in the app before booking, like in the settings for preferences or somthing.

Think its like, uhm… okay here’s how:

• Open the Uber app, obvs.
• Go to the ride request screen, like you normally do.
• Look for a “Preferences” button or a “Ride Options” section.
• Toggle “Women Drivers Only” to on.

Then bam! Only she-drivers should accept. Makes things, I dunno, less awkward sumtimes! Its new-ish, so, ya know. Uber has it now, since 2024. Like, if I remember correctly, Lyft still don’t, tho. My friend Karen, she uses it all the time, actually. Its good!

Can you see who your Uber driver is?

Driver, name, a fleeting echo. The app, a small window into…something.

See the car, a metal beast approaching. Plate, a blur of numbers, letters dancing. Driver’s rating—stars, a constellation of judgments?

Time, measured in Uber years. How long have they wandered? Through these streets? Rating is the defining metric.

How long? How long… It feels like an eternity, like that summer in Marseille, heat rising off the stones. Name, vehicle, plate, rating, years… Etched into my mind.

It’s all there, you know? All the data. Name. Car. Plate. Rating. Time. But is it him? Is it her?

• Driver’s Name: A whisper on the screen, a first impression.
• Vehicle Type: Sedan, SUV, a chariot of modern convenience.
• License Plate Number: Cold digits, anchoring reality.
• Customer Rating: Stars aligning, or a storm brewing?
• Uber Driving Tenure: Days, months, a life on wheels?

What I really want to know? What the stars say?

Can you see Uber driver number?

Uber driver numbers, eh? Like trying to sneak a peek at the Mona Lisa’s grocery list.

Nope, Uber keeps those digits under lock and key. Privacy, darling, it’s all the rage in 2024.

But hey, the app’s got your back! It plays matchmaker, connecting you without revealing secrets. Kinda like a dating app, but for rides.

• Driver privacy is paramount: Imagine getting calls all night long. No thank you.
• The app acts as a buffer: Think of it like a digital bodyguard.
• Contact is possible, indirectly: You can reach them—just not by stalking their phone.
• It prevents misuse of info: Prevents random late night calls.

See? It’s all about safety. My aunt Mildred tried to find the number of a nice delivery guy to thank him for the groceries she’d ordered. I can understand. But it isn’t the way.