Let me tell you the story. I flew into Perth today from Geraldton where I’ve been the last couple of days – stories coming soon – I met so many interesting people – but anyway…
The queue for a taxi was exhaustingly long but I had my book and was quite happy to read it as I shoved my bag with my foot.
As we waited a voice apologised over the PA system and said that taxis had been called.
Fine, whatever… I’d got to a good bit.
Anyway eventually I’m at the front of the queue and I have a woman driver who looks friendly, she pops the boot and helps me load my small case and laptop.
“Where to love?”
“Please take me to work in the city.” I had to pick up my car.
Was it my imagination or did she sigh?
Anyway I settled back and read my book and sooner than I wanted – I’d got to another good bit – we were pulling up outside my workplace.
I hand over my cabcharge.
These days they are those little cards with a magnetic strip down the back – thinnish cardboard.
“Do you have another card?”
“Er yeah,” I say getting another out.
“Thanks, I hate these cards, they never work in my machine – even when I use two together.” She swipes the cards repeatedly.
“Dammit I’m going to have to use a slip.”
So making conversation – as you do in the awkward silence while waiting to sign the slip – I say “Are you just starting your shift?”
“Yes just started. And I came all the way down Dianella for this.”
As if it were my fault.
I was speechless.
“Can you get your own bag out of the boot?”
“Er yes… of course.” I say and scoot out of the cab.
And I’m SO angry.
Angry at her for making me feel bad because she didn’t get a big fare to, I don’t know, Bunbury or something and even more angry with myself for feeling bad!
And the ironic thing? As she drives off I notice that she’s the driver of a Silver Service cab.