Call me a taxi

Here are some things not to do when you get in a taxi.

Do not give the taxi driver detailed directions to the biggest and most popular hotel in town. They have already been there six times tonight. It hasn’t moved.

If you tell the driver the name of the guest house where you are staying, and they politely tell you that they don’t know where that one is, that is taxi driver code for explaining that you have got the name of your guest house wrong. You have. Pay more attention. 

Do not attempt to pay for a three pounds fifty fare with a fifty pound note. The driver will hate you.

Do not walk behind a reversing taxi. Do not walk behind a reversing taxi. Do not walk behind a reversing taxi.

The driver finishes work at half past four in the morning. Yes, that’s late. No, they won’t be getting up early. Don’t ask. You aren’t really interested anyway. 

Do not try and be amusing. You are drunk. Success is unlikely.

Do not tell the driver that you are only getting in the taxi because you have got a bad leg. Otherwise you would walk up the hill. They won’t believe you. Not to worry. They don’t care. Your personal fitness or otherwise is between you and your conscience.

Do not be too fat to squeeze through the door and into the taxi. This is embarrassing both for you and the driver. If this happens it will probably do you good to walk, even if you really have a bad leg.

Do not walk behind a reversing taxi.

It has become an unexpectedly busy night on the taxi rank.

It is as if everybody who has not got a taxi for the last fortnight has decided to make up for it by getting in three different ones tonight.

I am pleased about this, in a relieved sort of way, it has been very quiet for ages and ages, and it is wonderful to make some money again.

The thing about making money at this end of the year is that customers do tend to be on a limited budget, which makes them suspicious and grumpy in taxis. 

I had so many people accuse me of being horrible, heartless and wicked last night, usually at the moment when I asked them to pay, that I had begun to wonder if perhaps I was.

I do not go out of my way to upset customers. I did not mean to upset the shouty lady who was worried about being raped when I wouldn’t drive her across the campsite to her tent. She got very cross when I said that I didn’t think that she had anything to worry about.

I hadn’t meant it personally, and it was an accident that I laughed when I realised how rude it sounded.

She was from Liverpool. She shouted a lot.

I left her, still shouting, at the side of the campsite.

I did begin to contemplate my lack of interest in customer relations with some concern, but fortunately some customers towards the end of the night told me gushingly that I was the nicest taxi driver that they had ever met. 

Since I had been no more courteous to them than to anybody else, and probably grumpier than to most, because it had got late, and I had had enough, I decided that I had been right all along, and that on the whole, customers are just mental. This is not an unreasonable conclusion, because certainly most of them are very drunk, lots have taken drugs, and quite a few are just plain mental anyway.

LATER NOTE:

I had to stop there because of being very busy taking drugged-up mental drunk people to places. It is almost five o’ clock in the morning and we are just going to bed. We haven’t even had time to drink our flask of tea.

We have made some money.

The relief is almost a tsunami. If we make some money tomorrow night and Monday night as well there will be barely a sandcastle of worry to be seen anywhere on our beach.

I had a haircut today, because of looking like a neglected poodle. It feels brilliant. It is short and tidy and fluffy and clean. Also we have had some quotes for the insurance which are not quite as bad as we were expecting.

Oh goodness, maybe  our world is improving a bit.

Things are getting better.

First frost tonight.