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Denver Post
Jan 25 2005
"Easy" test for Denver cabbies may take hike
By Robert Sanchez
Denver Post Staff Writer
Grigor Aghabayan sees taxi driving as a way to a better life, one
free of pumping gas for a living and struggling to meet mortgage
payments.
So on a recent afternoon, the 23-year-old smartly dressed Armenian
drove to the licensing office, took his exam and missed all 25
questions.
"That's no good," Aghabayan said in broken English as he stood at a
counter inside Denver's excise and license office. "I really should
have studied for this."
For $75, plus three references and a clean bill of health from a
doctor, potential taxi drivers can sit in a white- walled room with
two video cameras and take an hour-long licensing test that might
open a door to their future.
That is, if they pass.
The two-page test is a mix of true- false questions about cabbie
laws, directions to and from popular city spots and addresses of
landmarks.
For many of those taking it, it's a gateway to things better and
brighter.
For Nour Jibril, a balding and bespectacled 32-year-old from Somalia,
the 25 questions mean a job other than a restaurant waiter and the
possibility of bringing his wife from Africa.
"This (test) is everything to me, man," said Jibril, who fled his
war-ravaged country in 1999. "It means that I could make something of
myself."
Jibril anxiously awaited his exam results on a recent Tuesday,
assuring himself that he passed.
He spent a full month preparing, enlisting the help of strangers who
showed him how to read his 200-plus- page map book. He called friends
who already had taken the test. He reviewed practice exams dozens of
times.
A job at Metro Taxi could bring Jibril $150 in weekly profit, money
that he said he would stash away until he could send for his wife and
pay for college, where he wants to study to be a writer.
The proctor got his results.
"Congratulations," she said. "You missed two, but that's a good
score."
"Thank goodness. I knew I could do it," Jibril said as he held the
test.
"We all have our dreams," said Mohamed Sufi, a bearded Somalian who
missed eight questions and failed his exam earlier this month. "Me, I
just need a job."
The experiences of Sufi and Aghabayan aren't the norm in Denver.
Each year, more than 75 percent of the 300 or more examinees pass the
first time. And they have no trouble finding work.
Of the 1,100 licensed cab drivers in the city, up to 500 quit each
year, according to the Professional Taxicab Operators of Colorado, an
Englewood- based lobbying group.
Turnover is partly blamed on the test, which ProTaxi officials say is
too easy.
"There's no loyalty to the job because you don't have to work hard to
do well on the test," said Ed Szmajter, a 16-year Denver cab driver
who doubles as ProTaxi's vice president. "Just because you pass this
doesn't mean you're a qualified driver."
According to the Taxicab, Limousine and Paratransit Association trade
group in Maryland, fewer than 20 counties nationwide have a specific
taxi exam.
Of those exams, drivers said, Denver's is among the easiest.
In Las Vegas, drivers are given 30 minutes to finish a 40-question
test that asks for specific hotel addresses, among other things.
And in King County, Wash. - which includes Seattle - cab drivers who
couldn't speak English or frequently got lost led officials to create
a 2- hour written exam, followed by a separate oral test.
The failure rate in King County is 60 percent.
For its part, Denver's excise and license office is working with
ProTaxi to create longer, more difficult exams.
The city revamped its tests several years ago and added a separate
testing room, complete with cameras and proctors who search map books
for notes.
"I've seen the earpiece connected to the cellphone, the paper with
addresses dropping from the lap, you name it," said Charlotte
Martinez, who helps administer the test. "You pop open that door, and
the look of guilt just washes over their faces.
"They know you've got 'em."
Last week, another proctor was the one who broke the bad news to
Aghabayan.
"Uh, yeah, you failed this," the woman told the embarrassed
applicant, who left nearly every question blank.
He said he needed money and that taxi driving seemed simple enough.
He was so sure of himself that he never studied.
Before leaving, the Armenian begged the proctor to hand over his
failed exam. He promised to do better next time, after he studied.
"I'm sorry, sir," the woman said. "I can't just give this to you."
"Please?" Aghabayan pleaded.
"No."
Aghabayan paused.
"Please?"
"No."
Aghabayan flashed a desperate smile.
"Please, please?"
"Sir," the woman behind the desk said, "you're going to have to leave
now."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Jan 25 2005
"Easy" test for Denver cabbies may take hike
By Robert Sanchez
Denver Post Staff Writer
Grigor Aghabayan sees taxi driving as a way to a better life, one
free of pumping gas for a living and struggling to meet mortgage
payments.
So on a recent afternoon, the 23-year-old smartly dressed Armenian
drove to the licensing office, took his exam and missed all 25
questions.
"That's no good," Aghabayan said in broken English as he stood at a
counter inside Denver's excise and license office. "I really should
have studied for this."
For $75, plus three references and a clean bill of health from a
doctor, potential taxi drivers can sit in a white- walled room with
two video cameras and take an hour-long licensing test that might
open a door to their future.
That is, if they pass.
The two-page test is a mix of true- false questions about cabbie
laws, directions to and from popular city spots and addresses of
landmarks.
For many of those taking it, it's a gateway to things better and
brighter.
For Nour Jibril, a balding and bespectacled 32-year-old from Somalia,
the 25 questions mean a job other than a restaurant waiter and the
possibility of bringing his wife from Africa.
"This (test) is everything to me, man," said Jibril, who fled his
war-ravaged country in 1999. "It means that I could make something of
myself."
Jibril anxiously awaited his exam results on a recent Tuesday,
assuring himself that he passed.
He spent a full month preparing, enlisting the help of strangers who
showed him how to read his 200-plus- page map book. He called friends
who already had taken the test. He reviewed practice exams dozens of
times.
A job at Metro Taxi could bring Jibril $150 in weekly profit, money
that he said he would stash away until he could send for his wife and
pay for college, where he wants to study to be a writer.
The proctor got his results.
"Congratulations," she said. "You missed two, but that's a good
score."
"Thank goodness. I knew I could do it," Jibril said as he held the
test.
"We all have our dreams," said Mohamed Sufi, a bearded Somalian who
missed eight questions and failed his exam earlier this month. "Me, I
just need a job."
The experiences of Sufi and Aghabayan aren't the norm in Denver.
Each year, more than 75 percent of the 300 or more examinees pass the
first time. And they have no trouble finding work.
Of the 1,100 licensed cab drivers in the city, up to 500 quit each
year, according to the Professional Taxicab Operators of Colorado, an
Englewood- based lobbying group.
Turnover is partly blamed on the test, which ProTaxi officials say is
too easy.
"There's no loyalty to the job because you don't have to work hard to
do well on the test," said Ed Szmajter, a 16-year Denver cab driver
who doubles as ProTaxi's vice president. "Just because you pass this
doesn't mean you're a qualified driver."
According to the Taxicab, Limousine and Paratransit Association trade
group in Maryland, fewer than 20 counties nationwide have a specific
taxi exam.
Of those exams, drivers said, Denver's is among the easiest.
In Las Vegas, drivers are given 30 minutes to finish a 40-question
test that asks for specific hotel addresses, among other things.
And in King County, Wash. - which includes Seattle - cab drivers who
couldn't speak English or frequently got lost led officials to create
a 2- hour written exam, followed by a separate oral test.
The failure rate in King County is 60 percent.
For its part, Denver's excise and license office is working with
ProTaxi to create longer, more difficult exams.
The city revamped its tests several years ago and added a separate
testing room, complete with cameras and proctors who search map books
for notes.
"I've seen the earpiece connected to the cellphone, the paper with
addresses dropping from the lap, you name it," said Charlotte
Martinez, who helps administer the test. "You pop open that door, and
the look of guilt just washes over their faces.
"They know you've got 'em."
Last week, another proctor was the one who broke the bad news to
Aghabayan.
"Uh, yeah, you failed this," the woman told the embarrassed
applicant, who left nearly every question blank.
He said he needed money and that taxi driving seemed simple enough.
He was so sure of himself that he never studied.
Before leaving, the Armenian begged the proctor to hand over his
failed exam. He promised to do better next time, after he studied.
"I'm sorry, sir," the woman said. "I can't just give this to you."
"Please?" Aghabayan pleaded.
"No."
Aghabayan paused.
"Please?"
"No."
Aghabayan flashed a desperate smile.
"Please, please?"
"Sir," the woman behind the desk said, "you're going to have to leave
now."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress