Recently, business has been exceptionally slow for Erica Mighetto, who drives for Uber and Lyft in San Francisco. Even so, she’s still out there looking for passengers, and has taken steps to prepare for whatever rides do come along.
When she stops to pick me up in Glen Park earlier this week, Mighetto immediately rolls down the window before I get into her car and asks if I want her to put on a surgical mask.
Mighetto’s car is immaculate. There’s a lingering whiff of bleach from the disinfectant she has been religiously rubbing on the surfaces between passengers. Up front, behind the gear shift, she has a stack of pink surgical masks, which she said she received from a doctor at a hospital, who suggested she hand them out to any coughing passengers.
Late last week, she received messages from both Lyft and Uber telling her to keep her car clean and to stock up on hand sanitizer, which she found most stores had sold out of. A few days later, Lyft said it was providing sanitizer to drivers.

The hospital doctor Mighetto consulted with said she should use a mask as well, but she remains hesitant to wear one when picking up passengers, concerned it will freak them out. Everyone is already on edge, she says.
Mighetto is scared, too. She doesn’t want to be on the road driving, which she thinks could be particularly dangerous for her.
“I have a heart condition called supraventricular tachycardia,” she tells me. “Ten years ago I had surgery, and I haven’t been monitored since then. I don’t have a primary care practitioner or a cardiologist.”
“It’s really nerve-wracking to be out here driving people around,” she adds.
But coronavirus fears aside, Mighetto has little choice but to continue driving this month; she needs the money.
Now in her late 30s, Mighetto used to work as an accountant in Sacramento. Driving for a ride-hailing service was never part of her game plan.
Mighetto hasn’t had a steady job since working at a property management firm three years ago. She says it started as a bookkeeping gig, but increasingly involved hounding tenants for money and issuing eviction notices. She started feeling sick about the work and eventually quit, she says, and took up driving for Lyft while looking for something more permanent. She never imagined she’d be working behind the wheel for this long.
Four months ago, Mighetto says her landlord kicked out all the tenants in her apartment building, offering a small buyout. Since then, she’s been staying on friends’ couches and renting rooms in hostels while searching for a permanent residence.
Right now, Mighetto is driving as many hours as she can with the hope of scraping together enough money for a new apartment. But it’s an uphill battle. Between her car payments and credit cards, she is $18,000 in debt. Sometimes, to save money after a night shift, she folds down her backseat, pulls out a pillow she keeps tucked in the spare tire cavity and sleeps in her car.
This is not the life Mighetto envisioned when she left her last job.

“You just get sucked into it,” she says. “The bills stack up and the credit card debt mounts and you have to get that clutch and you have to get that battery and you go from a paycheck-to-paycheck basis to a cash-out-to-cash-out basis.”
Mighetto says she has an automatic phone payment coming up in two days that she currently doesn’t have enough money to cover, and she just received an email from her credit card company about an outstanding bill.
“I just have no choice whatsoever. I am running myself into financial despair,” she says, noting that the coronavirus has only made the situation tougher.

