OK, I'll admit it. If I'd been working for a reasonable owner who believed that a puncture at 70 mph on a motorway, which the driver saved the car from being rapped into a barrier, was not the fault of the driver, then I would not be writing this. I would still be his serf.
Anyway, thinking about what I'm missing, here's just a few of the things I'm not.
Like:
Sitting for 2 hours at the airport in the forlorn hope of getting a job, to be dragged to Newbridge to take a numpty who thinks you're too expensivce to his billet in Ratho station.
Or sitting on the city rank for an hour and watching the number of cars in the zone rise, and fall, and rise, and fall, all the wondering why no work is coming your way.
Or getting a job from the Waverley to Russell road, that's priced at just £6, and which was priced before the road works require a significant detour, and the price which remained the same throughout the last tariff hike, and which the guy you're driving reckons the railway is paying over £9 for, and which the company dips into your pocket for an extra 10% to them.
Or getting a job for the railway from the back of the Waverley, sitting for 25 minutes, only to finally get through on the radio to be told that the customer is "now" waiting opposite the taxi rank in the station. A customer who was repeatedly asked by the guy who called for the car why he was still waiting, certain that's where the car should have been picking up in the first place. And knowing that when you raise the matter back at base you're gonna be pooh poohed and nothing done. It's the serf, not at fault, who takes the financial hit. After all, the poor wee staff dears at base are just "too busy".
Or being first car in a five car job for staff at a pub, to find that your reward for being first car is a £3 job from Princes Street east end to McDonald Road, while the cars following you are heading for Brunstfield and Morningside etc.
Or sitting for yonks to get a random job from a hotel located on a natural black taxi cruising route and you know the punter just aint gonna be there.
Or getting a job like Sheraton Lothian Road when the job really was Lothian Road at the Sheraton. You're sat at reception awaiting the phantom punter while she's lit off in a hack from the rank because you didn't turn up.
Or getting a job from Mood at 3pm, punter outside, along with 500 others, if at all. And calling the bogey to find you're at position 15 in the queue, no hope of getting through. So you crash the job to be allocated another job immediately. Good. Beep beep, and its another job from Mood. Another phantom punter.
Or getting a job from Pizza express anywhere or any other restaurant which has been closed for two hours and you know its not a real job, another bogey.
Or getting a job you know is a bogey, going to it and proving it, only to wonder where the next job off the zone was going and who got it?
Or getting a job from a pub toog in the Canongate, named because that's what it sounded like to the hapless call agent who didn't have the wit, or couldn't be bothered, to verify the name? (Anyone know which pub it is?)
The positive thing for we who don't want to be serfs is that the the solution is quite simple. Just don't be someone else's serf. If you can't own, don't drive for the serf master. Cos he aint got your interest at heart. It's his ten per cent that's all he's interested in.
I'm loving this Friday.
And tomorrow's Saturday. You won't believe what happens on a Saturday
