Parliament was sitting on Wednesday night so I anticipated a busy shift. However, it was not to be. I only did one job between 3pm and 5pm; I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things did pick up for me as the night wore on.
Around about 9pm, I got a radio job from David Street in O'Connor. I arrived at the address and the house there in front of me was an old 1950s brick home with hedges that needed trimming, and grass that needed mowing. I wondered what kind of ice addict would emerge from the house. Low and behold, a stunning blonde emerged, and she sat in the front seat. Clearly, she hadn't heard how sleazy most taxi drivers could be.
She asked to be driven to Fitzroy Street, and I had a vague idea where it was. "Near Telopea Park High School?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied in an accent, "But why don't you use your GPS."
"A GPS is for Indians and Pakistanis. I've lived here 37 years, I know my way round."
"Are you a racist?"
"No," I replied, "But an Indian couldn't get you to Parliament House from here without a GPS. There's a difference between racial stereotyping and being a racist."
"I believe they're one and the same thing."
"So call me a racist, but you're not from here are you?"
"No, I'm from Sweden, I've been out here, teaching the new IKEA employees, the IKEA way."
"Interesting, yes, I've been out to IKEA a few times, there's some good stuff out there." We chat for a while about IKEA and the basis for its success here in Australia and abroad. I can tell she is very bright but she tells me she never went to University; she just did an IKEA defacto Diploma. I drop her off and I tell her she is not only one of the most beautiful women I've ever had in my cab, but also one of the smartest. I hope she invites me up for a drink but she meekly smiles and says thankyou. I've told about twenty women that they are the most beautiful woman I've ever had in the cab. All of them believe me; however, none has asked for my number or invited me up for a drink. It's a one in a million chance, I know, but I'm willing to take it.
I few fares later, I arrive at Casino Rank and there are four taxis in front of me. It's going to be a long wait for a job. The usual suspects are there: Polish Chris, Fat Bluey and Burmese Ming. A notable absence is Old Bobbie - he has been battling cancer and we surmise that he is probably sick in bed. After an hour and a half, I finally get a job. I am really pissed off when I find out it is just up the road to the Space Apartments on Northbourne The lottery of taxi driving.
After dropping him off I get a radio job to North Lyneham. I arrive at the Government Housing house. Out come two knockabout blokes in their early twenties. I think about charging them up front but when they tell me it's just down to Dickson servo for some cigarettes, I decide not to. After arriving at the servo, they grab some cigarettes, chocolate milk and chips, they get back in the cab and ask to be driven to Maccas. While we are waiting for the food to be made we enter into a little heated conversation.
"Is this going to be your last fare of the night?" one of them asks.
"If you pay me it will be." I reply. And this sets one of them off.
"Oh, fuck you cunt, we'll pay you. How do you know we are not going to pay you?"
"People from that street have ran off from me before."
"Oh fuck you, you can't tar everyone with the same brush." At that stage the meter was $24.60. I try and diffuse the situation and say, "Well, if you pay me now, I will only charge you $25."
"Ok asshole, you're on." And he hands over the $25. We have a bit of a laugh about how much a taxi costs and the situation is cooled. I drop them off and wish them all the best.
I start heading back to the Casino Rank and get another radio job. And wouldn't you know it, the pickup is Maccas. I was thinking it was going to be another Maccas run: someone has arrived at Maccas drive thru hoping to be served and they are told they need to be in a vehicle so they call a taxi. They just get in and then after they pickup the order they get out. They can be quite lucrative as they usually order big and Maccas usually takes twenty minutes to make the food.
I arrive at the Maccas and there is this hobo/muso looking bloke with two Aldi shopping bags. He gets in and asks to be driven to Lyneham.
"What's in the shopping bags?" I ask.
"Shopping." He replies. By this stage it is 2.30am.
"But Woolies closes at 11.00am, What have you been doing for three and a half hours."
"Just downloading youtube videos. I had to wait for the money to go into my bank account before I could get a taxi."
Strange man.
Saturday, 13 February 2016
Sunday, 3 January 2016
Three weddings and a funeral
It's the Yuletide season: a time for joy, peace, celebration and laughter. This story isn't funny, it's a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.
Meet Chris. He's 70 years of age and has been driving cabs for ten years. He is as fit as a fiddle and you can regularly find him on the ranks reading historical novels and playing his harmonica. He moved to Canberra originally to train as a surveyor and mapped out vast areas of Canberra before turning his hand to taxi driving. Once a criminal tried to rob him and he had no fear even though the criminal pulled a knife on him. He simply drove to the nearest servo and the criminal ran off.
He has been married three times, in his own words, he is a "mad rooter". His first wife, whom was a librarian, was totally paranoid that someone was going to drop an atom bomb on Canberra. They moved down the coast for a while, before moving back to Canberra so that his first wife could find her destiny. His first wife was raised by the nuns who had told her that everyone has a destiny. Before divorcing, they managed three kids, and all, unlike the author, are well adjusted individuals with proper careers and a future. His first wife now has MS and lives a very lonely life.
His second wife was of Italian decent, and they had a child who now dances as a ballerina in London, New York and Paris. She is living the dream. They divorced because she was not satisfied with the money that Chris was making as a surveyor.
Taking his second wife's advice, Chris moved to China to continue his surveying work, only this time he was going to be paid a lot more. He met an interpreter, Maree, and they travelled through China for a year, surveying different parts of China before they finally became a couple. Chris and Maree got married and returned to Australia where Chris started working as an taxi driver.
Maree bore Chris a daughter when Chris was 63 (he is a mad rooter). I met their daughter once when Chris invited me around for dinner, trying to set me up with a Chinese lady who had recently separated from her Australian husband. Chris' daughter was extremely intelligent for a seven year old. She could play the violin and busked. Sometimes she would make more money in a busking shift than Chris did in a taxi shift!
Then, out of the blue, Chris' daughter was killed in a car accident. Now he just mops around ranks in misery, staring at a photo of his daughter and talking of his suicidal thoughts. I try to cheer him up and say how much I value him as a person but it is to no avail. Maree, who is a Buddhist, believes in reincarnation and wants another child, believing that their daughter will be reincarnated if they have another child. However, Chris is not interested as he doesn't feel that he will have the energy to run around after a child. They say that if a married couple lose a child, 70% of the time it will end in divorce. I feel, but do not hope, that Chris and Maree are headed down the same path.
I wish you all the best Chris. May you find happiness through your music, your reading, your mad rooting and your beating off of criminals despite your daughter's death. Hope.
Meet Chris. He's 70 years of age and has been driving cabs for ten years. He is as fit as a fiddle and you can regularly find him on the ranks reading historical novels and playing his harmonica. He moved to Canberra originally to train as a surveyor and mapped out vast areas of Canberra before turning his hand to taxi driving. Once a criminal tried to rob him and he had no fear even though the criminal pulled a knife on him. He simply drove to the nearest servo and the criminal ran off.
He has been married three times, in his own words, he is a "mad rooter". His first wife, whom was a librarian, was totally paranoid that someone was going to drop an atom bomb on Canberra. They moved down the coast for a while, before moving back to Canberra so that his first wife could find her destiny. His first wife was raised by the nuns who had told her that everyone has a destiny. Before divorcing, they managed three kids, and all, unlike the author, are well adjusted individuals with proper careers and a future. His first wife now has MS and lives a very lonely life.
His second wife was of Italian decent, and they had a child who now dances as a ballerina in London, New York and Paris. She is living the dream. They divorced because she was not satisfied with the money that Chris was making as a surveyor.
Taking his second wife's advice, Chris moved to China to continue his surveying work, only this time he was going to be paid a lot more. He met an interpreter, Maree, and they travelled through China for a year, surveying different parts of China before they finally became a couple. Chris and Maree got married and returned to Australia where Chris started working as an taxi driver.
Maree bore Chris a daughter when Chris was 63 (he is a mad rooter). I met their daughter once when Chris invited me around for dinner, trying to set me up with a Chinese lady who had recently separated from her Australian husband. Chris' daughter was extremely intelligent for a seven year old. She could play the violin and busked. Sometimes she would make more money in a busking shift than Chris did in a taxi shift!
Then, out of the blue, Chris' daughter was killed in a car accident. Now he just mops around ranks in misery, staring at a photo of his daughter and talking of his suicidal thoughts. I try to cheer him up and say how much I value him as a person but it is to no avail. Maree, who is a Buddhist, believes in reincarnation and wants another child, believing that their daughter will be reincarnated if they have another child. However, Chris is not interested as he doesn't feel that he will have the energy to run around after a child. They say that if a married couple lose a child, 70% of the time it will end in divorce. I feel, but do not hope, that Chris and Maree are headed down the same path.
I wish you all the best Chris. May you find happiness through your music, your reading, your mad rooting and your beating off of criminals despite your daughter's death. Hope.
Saturday, 2 January 2016
Getting a rise from a triathlette
One slow Saturday afternoon, I got a job from Kingston and raced to the address out of fear that the job would be stolen by another taxi driver as it was on a main road. I cannot confirm or deny whether I broke the speed limit. When I got to the address a fit looking bloke with a small suitcase and a laptop bag got in the taxi. He said "Airport mate, I'm off to do a triathlon in New York with my girlfriend who lives there." I gave my usual line of "No worries." He asked me whether I had a girlfriend and I said "No, two years, plenty of dates but no luck yet." He responded, "There's someone for everyone."
As we drove along he opened his laptop and started chatting with girlfriend via skype. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was only wearing a bra and panties and, boy, was she fit. They started chatting about the triathlon and then, all of a sudden, she flashed her landing strip which I caught out of the corner of my eye. My passenger shouted "Boy, are you throwing this taxi driver a BONEr." I admit it got a rise out of the accelerator.
I like a landing strip,
a place to park my rocket.
But prefer a Tasmanian bush,
a place to hide my snake.
JE Pervert 2016.
As we drove along he opened his laptop and started chatting with girlfriend via skype. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was only wearing a bra and panties and, boy, was she fit. They started chatting about the triathlon and then, all of a sudden, she flashed her landing strip which I caught out of the corner of my eye. My passenger shouted "Boy, are you throwing this taxi driver a BONEr." I admit it got a rise out of the accelerator.
I like a landing strip,
a place to park my rocket.
But prefer a Tasmanian bush,
a place to hide my snake.
JE Pervert 2016.
Wednesday, 25 November 2015
Burma or Myanmar
You meet some pretty interesting characters when you work in the taxi industry. One of the guys I met at the Airport and Casino ranks is Ming, or maybe its Minh, I'm not sure. He's a real cheerful character who came to Australia from Burma. I know it is Myanmar now but I'll still call it Burma. Minh's English is quite good; some other Asians taxi drivers, particularly the Vietnamese ones, their English is quite poor and I have difficulty understanding them when I chat to them. I asked Ming one night why his English is so good and he said that there are three basic subjects in Burmese schooling: Burmese, Mathematics and English.
Minh is a refugee. He fought with the guerilla army in the Burmese countryside against the military dictatorship for seven years before escaping to Thailand where he was placed by the UNHCR in a refugee camp. Obviously his claims for asylum were accepted and he was given a choice between three countries to go and live: USA, Canada and Australia. He choose Australia because it was closer to Burma; he had hoped that the situation in Burma would improve and he could return. Little do people know, I certainly didn't, that Burma during the 1950s and 1960s was a prosperous country where the Buddhists lived peaceful lives. Then the military came along and fucked it all up.
Minh works hard. He does six nights a week, 12 hour shifts and then after that he does his cleaning jobs for two hours in the early hours of the morning. His wife works as a cleaner at a university as well, so they are able to pay off a mortgage and support their daughter who goes to university in Melbourne. Ming hopes one day to go to university and study and get a better job. I hope he does, he deserves it.
Minh is a refugee. He fought with the guerilla army in the Burmese countryside against the military dictatorship for seven years before escaping to Thailand where he was placed by the UNHCR in a refugee camp. Obviously his claims for asylum were accepted and he was given a choice between three countries to go and live: USA, Canada and Australia. He choose Australia because it was closer to Burma; he had hoped that the situation in Burma would improve and he could return. Little do people know, I certainly didn't, that Burma during the 1950s and 1960s was a prosperous country where the Buddhists lived peaceful lives. Then the military came along and fucked it all up.
Minh works hard. He does six nights a week, 12 hour shifts and then after that he does his cleaning jobs for two hours in the early hours of the morning. His wife works as a cleaner at a university as well, so they are able to pay off a mortgage and support their daughter who goes to university in Melbourne. Ming hopes one day to go to university and study and get a better job. I hope he does, he deserves it.
Monday, 5 October 2015
To Uber or not to Uber
Uber is coming to Canberra. The Government is changing the relevant laws to allow Uber to operate in competition with taxis in Canberra. A great number of people have commented to me on this while I have been driving a taxi and most people are fearful and are declining to use Uber. The fears range from feeling unsafe to the belief that Uber drivers could be rapists or murderers. With Govenment regulation of Uber a great number of these fears are unfounded. Uber drivers, just like taxi drivers, will be subject to police checks and health checks and their cars will have to be insured and pass roadworthy once a year.
Competition is good in a liberal democratic capitlist society like ours. I liken the arrival of Uber as akin to the arrival of Aldi to break to duopoly of Coles and Woolworths. The introduction of Aldi forced both Coles and Woolworths to lower their prices and, as I see it, the taxi industry will be forced to lower their prices too. If not, they will die a slow death, as eventually, companies and Governments will see the advantage in going with Uber to lower costs on travel.
For at least the short to medium term, taxis will have a number of advantages over Uber in the Canberra market place. Only taxis can pick up at the Canberra Airport and at taxi ranks. In addition, most companies and Government bodies pay by cabcharge vouchers and Uber drivers will not be able to use these barter systems. I estimate that Airport pick ups, Government and company jobs, and rank work would comprise 65% of my daily work. Uber drivers will be advantaged by cheaper fares and will most likely be used by customers on long fares out to the fringe suburbs on a Friday and Saturday night.
Will I become an Uber driver? Not yet. I don't feel there is enough work going around in Canberra to justify the switch. But eventually, unless the taxi industry lowers their fares, then I will be forced to go over to Uber because, as I have mentioned before, the taxi industry will die a slow death.
Competition is good in a liberal democratic capitlist society like ours. I liken the arrival of Uber as akin to the arrival of Aldi to break to duopoly of Coles and Woolworths. The introduction of Aldi forced both Coles and Woolworths to lower their prices and, as I see it, the taxi industry will be forced to lower their prices too. If not, they will die a slow death, as eventually, companies and Governments will see the advantage in going with Uber to lower costs on travel.
For at least the short to medium term, taxis will have a number of advantages over Uber in the Canberra market place. Only taxis can pick up at the Canberra Airport and at taxi ranks. In addition, most companies and Government bodies pay by cabcharge vouchers and Uber drivers will not be able to use these barter systems. I estimate that Airport pick ups, Government and company jobs, and rank work would comprise 65% of my daily work. Uber drivers will be advantaged by cheaper fares and will most likely be used by customers on long fares out to the fringe suburbs on a Friday and Saturday night.
Will I become an Uber driver? Not yet. I don't feel there is enough work going around in Canberra to justify the switch. But eventually, unless the taxi industry lowers their fares, then I will be forced to go over to Uber because, as I have mentioned before, the taxi industry will die a slow death.
Friday, 24 October 2014
The crying cricket bat
Actors say you should never work with two things: children
and animals. Well, in my experience, the
same goes for taxi driving. Animals are a pest in taxis, they either defecate
on the seat or leave hair all over the place and you have to clean it up afterwards. Children are another story altogether: either
they are great or just a pain in the ass.
One afternoon picked up this woman in her thirties with a child
about six. I picked them up in Dickson
and they asked to be driven to the city.
The child I immediately assumed was a recalcitrant because he refused to
put on his seatbelt even though we were moving.
His mother then ordered him to put on his seatbelt and he started
crying, exclaiming that it was uncomfortable.
His mother then said to the boy, “If you don’t put on your seatbelt the
taxi driver will get very angry, and you know what happens when people get
angry, you get hurt.”
“I don’t care, I’m not putting my seatbelt on.” cried the
boy and he continued crying. At this
moment I pulled over, got out, opened the back boot and pulled out a cricket
bat. I opened the boy’s door and asked
him “Who’s your favourite cricketer?”
“Michael Clarke” the boy replied.
“I like Michael Clarke too.
He plays a great pull shot doesn’t he?”
“Yes”. The boy was
still crying as he replied.
“Well, if you don’t put your seat belt on and stop crying,
I’m going to play a pull shot on your bum and send you all the way back to
Dickson.”
With that, the boy stopped crying, put his seatbelt on and
waited for me to get back in the cab.
After I put the cricket bat back in the back boot, I winked at the
mother and said, “Discipline is free of charge.”
Wednesday, 8 October 2014
"He's trying to kill me!!!"
One night a group of us taxi drivers were spinning a few yarns at the Airport. The boys were loving my stories but Greg in TX555 topped it all off with his story. Greg is an interesting guy, he subsidises his taxi income by speculating on the stock market and he is pretty successful. He drives an Audi A4 2002 model and I take great joy in pissing on it when I get the chance! Just kidding.
Greg had been working the Sunday double shift, starting at 4am in the morning and was due to finish at 12am. It was 11pm and Greg was out at the Airport, he had had a shit day at the office and made next to no money at all. The last flight was down at 12.30am and Greg decided to stay on despite the fact that he was feeling real tired. He decided to go buy a red bull from a nearby service station to give himself some wings for his final fare.
The plane touched down at 12.45am and by the time the passengers had got off the plane it was 1.00am before Greg finally got his fare. Greg was relieved when the passenger asked to be driven out to the outer suburbs.
Greg was feeling real tired during the fare; the red bull was beginning to lose its effect. As he approached a roundabout, he fell into a microsleep, launched over the roundabout, taking out a sign with him along the way, and was jolted back to consciousness as he came back down the other side of the roundabout. Greg retook control of the taxi and looked at the passenger. The passenger had turned white and shouted at Greg, "Let me out of the taxi!"
Greg pulled over and let the passenger out. The passenger got out of the taxi and started walking off. Greg stayed where he was for 30 seconds trying to fathom what had happened, then he realised that the passenger had left his luggage in the taxi. He drove after the passenger who was walking along the street and put the window down and called out to the passenger "Hey mate, come here."
The passenger took one look at Greg and started running, shouting at the top of his voice "He's trying to kill me! he's trying to kill me!"
Greg didn't know what to do next but decided to go home and put the suitcase with the items on ebay. He did this and made $50 which he invested in mining shares, Poisedon Mark II.
Greg had been working the Sunday double shift, starting at 4am in the morning and was due to finish at 12am. It was 11pm and Greg was out at the Airport, he had had a shit day at the office and made next to no money at all. The last flight was down at 12.30am and Greg decided to stay on despite the fact that he was feeling real tired. He decided to go buy a red bull from a nearby service station to give himself some wings for his final fare.
The plane touched down at 12.45am and by the time the passengers had got off the plane it was 1.00am before Greg finally got his fare. Greg was relieved when the passenger asked to be driven out to the outer suburbs.
Greg was feeling real tired during the fare; the red bull was beginning to lose its effect. As he approached a roundabout, he fell into a microsleep, launched over the roundabout, taking out a sign with him along the way, and was jolted back to consciousness as he came back down the other side of the roundabout. Greg retook control of the taxi and looked at the passenger. The passenger had turned white and shouted at Greg, "Let me out of the taxi!"
Greg pulled over and let the passenger out. The passenger got out of the taxi and started walking off. Greg stayed where he was for 30 seconds trying to fathom what had happened, then he realised that the passenger had left his luggage in the taxi. He drove after the passenger who was walking along the street and put the window down and called out to the passenger "Hey mate, come here."
The passenger took one look at Greg and started running, shouting at the top of his voice "He's trying to kill me! he's trying to kill me!"
Greg didn't know what to do next but decided to go home and put the suitcase with the items on ebay. He did this and made $50 which he invested in mining shares, Poisedon Mark II.
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