Monday 19 August 2013

I snatched her handbag...

Some family members have told me not to tell this story.  I'm a little bit embarrassed by it and it came at a time when I was inexperienced and a little naïve about taxi driving.

For a while there I loved Manuka rank.  It seemed to deliver good jobs but gradually I began to realise that I had just been lucky as most jobs are small jobs to the surrounding suburbs.  My two spewers were both from this rank so now I boycott it.

One night during my first couple of months of taxi driving I was waiting there at Manuka rank and a lady, about 55 or older, hobbled towards the taxi.  She got in and asked to be driven to a street in Yarralumla.  As we drove along things were going nicely and then she asked me to clean my windscreen as she couldn't see where she was going.  I did this but then she got all angry and asked me to pull over.  I did so and she started to get out.  I requested payment of the fare and she told me that she wasn't paying the fare and that I had been rude.  As she got out she said, "Sue me!"

It had been a really bad night, I had hardly made any money and something snapped in me.  I should have just let it ride but I got out of the taxi and demanded my $10.  She refused.  And this is where I did the wrong thing.  I grabbed her handbag and in the process she fell over.  As I walked off with her bag, she yelled at me, "My keys are in there."  And then she realised that she could not get up.  She called after me, "Ï'm really sorry, can you help me up and drive me home?"  I approached her, helped her up and led her back into the taxi.

Back in the taxi her whole demeanour changed.  She was quite chatty and friendly.  And then I got the question, it is the question that most foreign taxi drivers hate.  "Which country are you from?" she asked politely.  I was a little bewildered by this question as I had spoken in my broad Australian accent and I thought my blue eyes and brown hair would indicate that I had Anglo-Saxon heritage.  For some reason I lied and responded, "Afghanistan."  I didn't put on a foreign accent, I just spoke normally and in any case, I couldn't even do one foreign accent if my life depended on it.  Then she asked what my name was.  "Muhammed." I responded.  She then asked whether I was Christian or Muslim and I said I was Christian.  She then said that Muhammed was an unusual name for a Christian.  I thought I had been caught out but she ignored it and asked whether I was educated.  I said "No."  She then went on to ask why I don't educate myself to give myself a brighter future.  I replied that I had a wife and two kids to support and that I couldn't afford the time to study as I had to work seven days a week to support them. 

We pulled up at her townhouse and then she said she was so sorry for being so rude.  I responded that there had just been a misunderstanding.  The fare came to about $15.  She pulled out a $50 note and gave it to me saying that maybe I could buy my family a nice meal with the money.  I thanked her and said I will.  I helped her with her bags, taking them to the front door and then she hugged me and wished me all the best.

"People are strange, stranger than strange." - The Doors.  

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