This article is attached to a live discussion from The Gigman’s Life, where I talked through Uber, Lyft, self-insurance, Massachusetts rideshare rules, and the definition game that drivers need to pay attention to.
Because that is really what this comes down to.
Definitions.
There is online time, and there is active time.
Those two things are not the same.
Online time is when a driver is logged into the app, available for rides, positioning themselves, waiting for work, burning fuel, putting miles on the vehicle, and acting as part of the platform’s driver supply.
Active time, or engaged time, is the narrower slice of time the companies usually want to talk about when pay is involved. That is generally the period from accepting or being matched with a ride, driving to pick up the passenger, completing the trip, and dropping the passenger off.
And that difference matters.
Because when Uber or Lyft need drivers available, online time matters very much. The whole platform depends on having drivers logged in, spread across different areas, ready to accept rides. That is how riders get short wait times. That is how the app appears reliable. That is how the company can say there are drivers available.
But when it comes time to talk about pay, protections, or responsibility, suddenly the focus shifts.
Now it is active time.
Now it is engaged time.
Now the clock that matters is not the whole time the driver was online and available. It is only the narrower period when the driver was actively connected to a fare.
That is the game.
Online when they need supply.
Active when they owe responsibility.
That is where the insurance issue starts to look questionable.
Now, I am not saying captive insurance, self-insurance, or corporate insurance structures are automatically illegal or shocking. Large companies do this kind of thing all the time. I worked for a privately held multibillion-dollar corporation for ten years. One of the things you learn around large companies is that there are a lot of structures that may look strange from the outside, but are completely legal.
Companies separate risk. They create different entities. They protect capital. They build reserves. They move obligations into different baskets because if everything is in one basket and you drop it, you have no eggs left.
So when people say, “They own their own insurance company,” my reaction is not shock.
My reaction is: okay, then let’s look at what is actually being charged, what is actually being covered, and when that coverage actually applies.
Because here in Massachusetts, when I look at the weekly breakdowns, I see the numbers. I see Uber presenting it like they did not make much money from my driving. Then I see a large chunk related to insurance or platform costs, and somewhere down the line I knew something about that did not sit right.
It is not just about whether the structure is legal.
Legal does not always mean clean.
Legal does not always mean fair.
Legal does not always mean drivers should stop asking questions.
The question is simple:
If a driver is online, available, and operating under the platform’s rules, why does the strongest responsibility only seem to attach once the driver is actively connected to a ride?
Because the risk does not magically begin when a passenger sits down in the vehicle.
The risk begins when the driver logs in and starts using their vehicle for the platform’s business. That includes waiting, positioning, moving toward demand, rejecting unsafe or unprofitable rides, and keeping themselves available so the app can function.
If the platform benefits from drivers being online, then online time is not meaningless.
And if the platform limits how long drivers can be online, then the company already understands that online time is part of the work structure.
So drivers have every right to ask:
What time period is this insurance charge actually covering?
When does meaningful coverage begin?
When does it end?
Why is the strongest coverage tied to active or engaged time if the company benefits from the driver being online before that?
And why are drivers seeing large insurance-related costs in the fare breakdown if the company wants to narrow responsibility to only part of the driver’s working time?
That is the part that feels like bullshit.
Not because insurance is unnecessary. Insurance absolutely matters. Rideshare carries risk. Drivers carry risk. Passengers carry risk. The public carries risk.
But if the cost is being pushed through the fare structure, then the coverage and responsibility should match the reality of the work.
And the reality is this:
A rideshare driver is not only useful to the platform when a passenger is in the car.
The driver is useful the moment they go online.
That available driver is part of the supply. That driver helps reduce wait times. That driver gives the platform coverage in that area. That driver is part of why the app works at all.
So if drivers are counted as supply during online time, then online time should matter when we talk about protection.
This is especially important in Massachusetts because drivers here are already dealing with extra layers. We have regular state inspections, and then we have TNC inspections. If a driver needs a rental car, that creates another issue. Sometimes you have to go to Worcester to get a rental that works for Massachusetts rideshare. Sometimes you end up working in Connecticut instead. Sometimes riders wonder why drivers do not want to take certain trips across state lines, and the answer is not always laziness.
Sometimes the rules, inspections, platform requirements, and ability to get return trips all affect whether that ride makes sense.
That is part of the gig life people do not always see.
The same kind of platform logic shows up in delivery too. Most restaurants are fine. Most customers are fine. But there are still problems in the system.
A restaurant can receive an order that takes real time to prepare, but the system may still act like the driver should already be there. A restaurant can have fifteen orders ahead of yours, but somehow the pressure still rolls downhill toward the driver. Customers may not see the full picture. The platform may not account for the real delay. The driver ends up standing there, unpaid or underpaid, absorbing the frustration.
That is why these definitions matter.
Online.
Active.
Engaged.
Available.
Waiting.
Working.
These words are not just technical details. They decide who gets paid, who gets protected, who carries risk, and who gets to pretend the risk belongs to somebody else.
When you look at this from both sides, it makes sense why companies structure things the way they do. Businesses are designed to survive, limit liability, and remain profitable. Once they become publicly traded companies, we get to see more of the structure because they have to make certain information available to shareholders and regulators.
So drivers should pay attention to those documents.
Riders should understand that the app makes things look simpler than they really are.
And when a company says it did not make much money from a ride while a large insurance-related chunk shows up in the breakdown, drivers have every right to ask what that money is actually doing.
Because the core issue is not whether Uber or Lyft use complicated insurance structures.
The core issue is whether the definitions are being used fairly.
If I am online, I am helping the platform.
If I am online, I am available for the platform.
If I am online, I am accepting platform-related risk.
So do not count me as supply when you need drivers, then pretend only active time matters when responsibility comes due.
Online when they need supply.
Active when they owe responsibility.
That is the quiet game.
And drivers should be paying attention.