Another day, another dollar. In this chapter, I’m going to be telling you about a few of the hundreds of different stories in my ‘nearly’ 20 years of driving a taxi. But before I get into those stories I want to explain how I got into this amazing job. In my first book ‘You are the Beef’ I explain in the chapter: ‘The Job Centre’ all the different jobs I’ve had but I won’t go down that road explaining them all again. We’ll get on with my current one. Taxi Driving.
The reason I got into taxi driving was because of my involvement in the music business. I played in a band. But the problem with my job at the time was getting time off to do the gigs. I was working on the roads doing Bridge Joints, no that’s not smoking weed, it’s replacing the expansion joint where the sections of concrete joined to make the bridge, like a drainage system for the water. The trouble with this job was I was always away from home. So basically we never rehearsed in the band, but in all fairness, we weren’t playing that much anyway, so it wasn’t really a problem.
Where it all started to go pear-shaped for me had nothing to do with the band. One of my mates Matt had a friend who’d been nicked out in Cyprus doing a dodgy drug deal. He had been banged up in, probably not one of the greatest nicks in the world. Matt was going out to visit him. So I decided that I’d go out there, as well. The only problem was work, not getting the time off so much – it was the fact no one else could do my specific job – I had mastered it. I was the printer, and what that entailed was spreading this mega-hot resin over the road. Then spreading sand to stop the print from sticking, then ultimately, I would print the brick pattern. To cut a long story short I decided to go sick so I could fly to Cyprus with Matt. But really, I was never ill so I rang my boss about 4 am in the morning and said I’d done my back in. Oh fuck! I felt so guilty I’d really dropped him in the shit, and worse still we’d be travelling up to Scotland.
There were still 3 others in the crew so it didn’t stop them from going to work. Phew! Now the other dilemma was the weather in Cyprus was about 40 degrees, I kid you not I never saw a cloud for 4 days. I even tried hiding from the sun but to no avail. It was bleeding obvious I’d been away, everyone looked shocked when I’d turned up for work with a tan the following week. The only person who never said anything was my boss. Unbelievable.
After that little escapade, I ended up working in a much smaller road crew doing a product called ‘Anti Skid’. The clues in the title but basically this was a safety measure for cars at traffic lights or junctions – to stop cars from skidding into the adjacent road in an emergency stop situation.
The problem now was the gigs had started coming in and it was impossible trying to get time off, after all, the other bloke definitely couldn’t do the work on his own so I left to do taxi driving. Then I could fly off whenever I wanted. Happy days.This was a great move but not always financially, sometime we would fly off somewhere for one gig. Unfortunately, although the money was good for the gigs it wasn’t enough to warrant 3 days off taxi driving.
So let’s get into some of the silly little stories to give you an idea of the different sort of scenarios you could face on a regular face on a regular basis.
105 My Hero
Back in my early days of taxi driving I was doing nights I started from the off on nights. I was not the most consistent driver out there, I would normally bugger off by about 1 pm, whereas some of the other drivers would stay out till 6 in the morning. Fuck that! I did have a stint of doing the ‘all-nighter. The thing is – on nights you could pick up any old Tom, Dick or Harry.
I had given up drinking so being in the car with other drunks wasn’t my bag. You would always get one (cunt) who would try and give it the biggun. Not for me, apart from the shit traffic – days are better in my opinion. Incidentally, If a driver did run into trouble he/she would call a ‘13’, and then all the drivers in the vicinity would come to their aid. Nine times out of ten the situation was always defused by the time you’d got there. I can always remember a wave of anxiety coming over me whenever a 13 was called – you just didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. These 13s were few and far between luckily. Thank god.
One day I was out driving around trying to earn a bit of dough when a message came over the radio. “To all drivers, there is a 13 at 380 Northdown Road, Cliftonville”. The driver who had pressed the alarm button was named Jenny. The only worrying thing for me was that I was literally 200 yards from where she was in trouble. Oh no fuck!!!
I was crapping myself because I knew I’d be first to assist her, not unless I was arriving on a snail I was only 30 seconds away. Sure enough, as I drove around the corner I could see her blue Peugeot parked on the other side of the road. Gulp! I drove past and parked about 30 yards from the car. I couldn’t see any problems at all, apart from – there wasn’t any form of reinforcements (other drivers) in sight. Then to my horror, these two meatheads (about the size of ‘The Rock’) got out of the car and started marching side by side towards me. For fucks sake I’m gonna get mullered here. Oh well, deep breath and all that – I marched towards them, I just stared at the tiny gap between them and contemplated thumping one of them before they punched me. But as I got to them they weren’t even looking at me. So I gingerly squeezed between the two hulks Scott free. I’d escaped instant death – unbelievable.
By now I’d got to Jenny who was still just sitting in the car. I leaned into the window with my cocky chewing gum face on and braggingly said “ See how they shit themselves when I turn up” Then, as I turned to look back at my car, the fuckers had only gone and sat in the back seat of mine. NNOOOOOOOO!!!! Now what?
Would you ‘Adam and Eve It’? How was I going to handle this now, and worse still – where the hell is the cavalry? You couldn’t make this up. I went to the car and before I could say anything one of the blokes said: “ Sorry mate, I really must apologise for this mess – all I did was ask the lady if I could open the window my mate felt sick, I’m glad your company sent another car (they hadn’t) I am so grateful, Can you take us to Ramsgate”? What the fuck! I pretended I wasn’t going to take them that likely, but I didn’t want my limbs torn off. No. So off I drove to Ramsgate. The two of them were as good as gold so what a relief. I dropped them off and then went back to the office. To my amazement ‘Jenny’ had kicked off to the controllers saying that I shouldn’t have taken them. But in my defence, they had told her that at least I had defused the situation without a rukkus. Although I never mentioned it – I reckon one of the blokes had just done a ‘bit fat line of charlie’ and just sweated out when he got in Jenny’s car.
There's Something About Albion Road
Some of these stories are classic examples of what’s known as a ‘paradigm shift’. In this classic book ‘Seven Habits of Highly Effective People’ Stephen Covey explains what a paradigm shift is. I will give you a quick example of how we change our thinking when we’ve said something only to realize, you’ve read the situation wrong. So imagine this scenario: I’ve just picked up this lady and she’s off to the maternity unit at the hospital. I noticed how large her tummy is so I say this. Me: Oh my God you look like you’re just about to burst, please don’t have it in my car – my midwife skills are not as sharp as they were lol when’s it due? Awkward silence…Her: “I’m not pregnant I’m going to see my sister”. Me: oh (fuck). Blimey! How do you recover from that? Let’s just say I wasn’t the most popular taxi driver in her books, conversation over.
Oh dear! I have to say I’m not proud of this, here goes. On this occasion, I’d picked up this young fella who was going into Broadstairs, nothing strange about that. However, on the way, he said “Oh! On the way can we just stop at my house on Albion Road”? He told me the number and I said fine. But then I remembered that there is never anywhere to park on that side of the road…bollocks! Anyway as we got around the corner Mr Neg (me) was wrong there was one parking spot along the road. I couldn’t believe my luck he laughed and said: “It’s right outside my house, result”. What are the chances? if only every job was this straightforward. As I approached my lucky parking spot there were loads of cars behind me and the parking space was tight. So with my ex-van driving skills, I mounted the pavement and steered the car in. The bloke got out of the car and went into the house. I waited 5 minutes and he still hadn’t come out. Now I am double impatient so my stress level was on the up. I hate waiting. Then, he came from the house and got in the car about 10 minutes later. Great. But nothing is straightforward taxi driving. As I went to go, another car had pulled up facing the wrong way waiting to get in the spot. But I just couldn’t get out. The woman in the other car just sat there. You’ve got to be kidding. I waved my arms to gesture to get out of the way but she still didn’t budge. Now I started screaming with raged calling her every name under the sun, shame on me – I even called her a fucking slag. Then, something came over me and I turned to my passenger and said “You don’t know her do you? And he replied in a voice that sounded close to tears. “IT’S MY MUM”! NOOOOOOOOOO. She then reversed and I drove off. But funnily enough the bloke said “ha ha she’s such a crap driver ha ha” Luckily I had already sunk so he gave me an escape route. I should’ve realized but I’m not a mind reader. The bloke left my car seeming ok but I have to say: if someone was talking like that about my mum he would’ve got a slap.
On another occasion I was driving again, on Albion Road but this time in the opposite direction. I had an old lady as a passenger who sat in the front of the car. Then as we came near to the zebra crossing by ‘The Bike Shop” I noticed (out of the corner of my eye) this young kid on a push bike riding on the pavement. Then to my horror, he shot straight in front of me. I slammed the anchors on and we came to a halt. By now the cheeky little shit had slouched right down staring at me as if to say “What the fuck are you gonna do about it”? He kept on staring, staring staring then bang! he crashed – head-on into the lamppost that’s in the middle of the pavement I even saw his head consertinered in his back. Ouch! “That’ll teach you you little cunt”! I said. The old lady said “Oh my God – I’ve never seen anything like that in my life” Then we both laughed hysterically as the little dickhead wobbled off. He had bruised his ego more than himself he never looked back once.
Do Not Always Trust Your Instincts
Right then, here is another faux parr on my part. This was another normal day of taxi driving, same ol, same ol as you’d say. This story was in my early days but I can remember it like it was yesterday. It really was that awkward.
I was in Margate when this job came through on the system. Back then we had a box on the dashboard that would tell you where the pick-ups for the job are. No apps on the mobile phone back then All of a sudden this job came through: blah blah blah Setterfield Road going to Westwood. Now I didn’t have a clue where the road was. So I looked it up in my map book, then went off for the pick. As I turned into the road I noticed straight away it was a dead end but still over a hundred yards long. As I got further down I realised there was nowhere to turn around. Oh well my bad and all that – I won’t make that mistake again. Luckily the women had come out with a wheelchair about halfway down the road. So I stopped and helped her get the wheelchair in the boot, then reversed back up the road to get back on the main road. No dramas.
The very next day would you believe it? I got another job at Setterfield Road. ‘Oh for fucks sake’! I thought to myself – what a nightmare. It was such a narrow road too. So I thought: I know, I’ll reverse down this time. But it wasn’t the same bloke and the number was right at the end of the road – the dead end. I started reversing slowly down the road, scraping my hubcaps on the pavement. I noticed the woman standing outside her door. Anyway, I carried on reversing down the road, clipping wing mirrors, and scuffing my hubcaps. Jeez! She still hadn’t budged. I finally made it down to her and then drove off to where she wanted to go. What a palaver.
To cut a long story short I never got a job down that road for ages, then about a year later, working away the inevitable happened. A job came through at – you’ve guessed it – SETTERFIELD ROAD! bugger!. Anyway, I was a pro now at that awkward little road – I’d been there before. Brilliant, usual trick. I started to reverse down the road but as I looked in the mirror I saw this random woman walking up the road. I thought ‘You never know it could be my passenger using a bit of initiative, saving me all that ‘ag’ of reversing down the road. Sure enough, the lovely lady got in so I said “Wow thanks for using your noddle and saving me reversing all the way down your road, not like that CUNT from 28”…..She said. “I am from 28”oooppss……silence 🤐 0h know! It was the first random number that popped into my head. The thing is I was trying to be nice and even as I said it, something in my head was trying to warn me. Lesson learnt – Just shut up.