So I have now read this entire hardback book about Uber, and still don’t understand what its great innovation was. What did everybody think was so new about it? In the old days you had to call a cab using your phone. Now, with Uber, you can call a cab with… your phone. Except that instead of a licensed and vetted professional driver backed by state insurance, you get some dude with a car. And lest you think “some dude with a car” is the true innovation, let me remind you of the hundreds of gypsy cabs constantly roaming New York honking to attract fares without having gone to the expense of a TLC medallion. New York is the only big city I know well, but I’d be surprised if other cities don’t have something similar.
Now, this is my failure, not Mike Isaac’s. It’s clear that everyone (except me) really does see something revolutionary and valuable in Uber’s service, to the point that many of my friends no longer seem to be aware of any other way to get around. I live in a small town now and don’t pay much attention to social media, so I am following all of this from an extremely remote perspective. But, the phenomenon of Uber’s rise has seemed to me akin to that of Spotify: It’s become so dominant that people use it reflexively without even considering the obvious fact that it doesn’t offer anything substantive that couldn’t be had through previous, more traditional, channels. There is actually a term for this, which Isaac explains: “negative churn” means that people who use the service are more likely to use it again.
This phenomenon, of Uber brainwashing everyone into forgetting that there are alternatives to Uber, is not a focus of the book. Even so, it is woven through the story: The “syndicate” of venture capitalists who collude to bring down Travis Kalanick continue to discuss their plot even as they get into Ubers that they know are bugged. The author himself, Mike Isaac, takes Ubers to clandestine off-the-record meetings with current and former Uber employees. Uber über-alles.
I wanted to consider myself a technocrat back in the days of Walkmans and DOS, but since then have realized I’m more Luddite than most. I’ve never owned a cellphone and have only ever ridden in an Uber once, when visiting a friend in Minneapolis. But it seemed to me then, as now, that what customers really like about Uber is being able to watch the cab crawl toward them on their little phone screen map. Which means that if the San Francisco Transportation Commission (or even one of the gypsy cab companies) had decided to make an app for calling their cabs, none of what’s in this book would have happened.
But happen it did, and it’s a bonanza for armchair schadenfreude-hustlers like me. Mike Isaac’s account is bristly, snappy, and suffused with an understanding of Silicon Valley culture. He takes us from Travis Kalanick’s early efforts as an entrepreneur – suffering setbacks but coming away with enough green to get started on his Next Big Thing – all the way to the ugly, public efforts to remove him from the company he had founded (and also nearly drove to destruction). It starts out seeming like a biography, but as Uber grows the story takes on a global, giants-in-the-playground aspect. If you have nothing riding on it, it’s great fun to read about the shenanigans of over-wealthy entitled “tech-bros” with plans for world domination and little respect for laws, rules, norms, or boundaries of any kind. The company, built deliberately to mirror Kalanick’s own mindset, becomes a freewheeling, cutthroat, sexist bacchanalia celebrating adversarialism, conquest, and money. Based on Isaac’s descriptions of the company’s founding mission and stated objectives, it should have been called Qo’noS.
When the adults finally enter the room, i.e. the scions of the professional manager class and big money investors who demand board seats and transparency, things start to tighten for Kalanick. Even for someone like me who didn’t already know what had happened, the writing was on the wall. It couldn’t have helped that Uber’s base business model relied on two practices that could be seen as shady at best: expanding into territories without proper governmental or regulatory clearance; and treating their entire driver base as contractors who don’t have to be paid health care coverage, time off, or pretty much anything else. Without these, is the ride-hailing business model even theoretically profitable? I have no idea; Isaac doesn’t address the question.
But he does a great job telling the story of the personalities, places, and technical hurdles involved in turning one simple smartphone app into a global behemoth. As an outsider, the way this company was run is mindblowing to me. Is it an outlier, a unicorn among unicorns, or is it a bellwether of an entire reckless, headlong, move-fast-and-break-things industry?