I have got so late today that there was no time to write anything in here before I came to work, and so tonight’s entry is going to be scribbled in hastily snatched moments in between idiots.
Not that I wish to be uncomplimentary about our beloved customer base.
There was once a government initiative offering free business coaching for small businesses, and we signed up for it in an inspired moment of curiosity. The coach came around to our house, and after half an hour spent listening to us describing the nature of our activities, paused the conversation to wonder if perhaps we might be in the wrong business, given our complete lack of interest in the satisfaction or otherwise of our customers.
We assured him that our opinions were shared by every single taxi driver, at least after their first six months. He frowned a little, and said that he didn’t think it was entirely usual for businesses to have such a very low opinion of the intelligence and general likeableness of their customer base. We explained that the only people who actually liked their customers, certainly in the hospitality trade, were usually the senior management, who never had anything to do with them.
I have had some idiots tonight already.
There was one very intoxicated chap who was furiously irate to discover that I did not know where he lived, despite the fact that I had taken him there a couple of months ago. He swore and raged and said that he would never use my taxi again, since I did not pay proper attention to my customers, which was perfectly all right with me. Misfortunately he was so drunk that he will not remember, and I took so little notice that I would not recognise him again, and so probably he will carry on getting taxis just as before.
There was a couple the other night who also qualified. I was taking them back to their farm along some dark country roads, not bothering to listen to the argument crackling along in the back, until the chap suddenly leaned forwards and demanded that I stop so that he could get out. He insisted, so I did.
He wandered off into the night, and we carried on. His companion was completely livid. She shrieked and yelled at me, furious that I had allowed him just to get out because he had said so. I explained, as courteously as I could be bothered, that to carry on when somebody wished me to stop was, in fact, abduction.
She shouted that she was his wife, and so it was up to her what he did. I disagreed, politely, since I am married myself, and still have some distant recollection of what you actually promise, and in any case the chap was over eighteen and perfectly at liberty to make his own travelling decisions.
She was beside herself with fury. I was irresponsible, she said, to show so little concern for his welfare that I would allow him to get out of the taxi in the middle of the night. It would be my fault, she said, if he died, and she hoped that I would be able to live with myself.
I assured her that I would, and she took down the taxi number and announced that she was going to report me to the council. I offered her the phone number, which they never answer anyway, and she stomped off into the distance, saying that she was going to get the quad bike out to go and look for him. I hope she didn’t, because she was very drunk.
I stopped next to the husband on my way back and warned him that his wife was very cross and coming to look for him with the quad bike. He laughed, and dived over the wall to hide, and I drove off, feeling vindicated.
I am going to leave you to your cornflakes. The night is young, and I have got to go and get fuel.
There are still plenty of idiots who will need to get home later.
