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Oct. 25th, 2006
Cab 94. A Ford Falcon sedan, like most Canberra's cab's. I drive a similar model myself, though it is older, doesn't have the clutter of meters and equipment, and doesn't look quite so industrial. The rubber mats on the floor, the protective seat covers, the Armourglazed interior work - it gives the cab a certain air. Modern, flashy, purposeful, but not lived in, not like a normal car.
A tiny pair of fuzzy black dice tucked up behind the rearview mirror reveals a certain relationshipo between the car and Richie, the day driver. Richie has been driving for three months and loves it. The job, I mean, not the car. He ran me through all the switches and instruments, jotted down a few notes for me on what to do at the end of my shift, and I did my best to follow along.
"Just one more thing..." Isaid, before he disappeared off to bed or dinner or a beer or a book or a blonde or whatever it is that taxidrivers do after driving for half the day. We had been advised at the school to take a good brisk twenty minute walk after a shift. Ten minutes striding to burn off the adrenalin and then ten minutes back, but Richie didn't look terribly stressed to me.
I handed him the camera and posed beside my first cab. That big smile is still on my face and I'm on top of the world.
And in a few minutes more, I was driving along suburban streets, hardly believing that I was piloting an actual taxicab in a professional manner, all by myself with out any adult supervision.
Beep-beep-beep! My heart skipped a beep. Here it was, my first fare!
What happens is that each cab is fitted with GPS gear, broadcasting its position back to base, and when a passenger makes a booking, the system searches for the next available cab in the correct area and sends the job offer. Dickson to the Airport, the MDT screen advised me. Accept or Reject?
Accept, of course! I was only a couple of minutes away - we have ten minutes to get to the job - and I pulled under the portico of the government building on Northbourne Avenue in good time. But there were only a few public servants dragging on cigarettes outside - in these days of environmental workplaces the few addicts that can stand the scorn of their workmates hanga round the building entrances, often prompting tourists in the middle of winter to wonder why Canberra has so many prostitutes. Nobody came bounding up to shake my hand and bask in the glory of being my first passenger. I waited five minutes, checked around the back entrance, went inside and forced the receptionist to ring around, but nobody there. he had probably grown tired of waiting, walked out to Northbourne Avenue a few metres away, and flagged down another cab.
So, back in the car, punch in a "no-show" (at this stage a matter of holding the driver's handbook in one hand and pressing buttons on the MDT with the other, referring from one to the other, a vital learning experience, much like getting a new electronic box to put on my TV, along with a manual and a new remote control to stack with the others), and then back on the road. My strategy for the night was to sit on the City Main rank, accept fares and return - a painless and productive plan for my first shift.
Within a few minutes, I had my next fare on the MDT. An office building near Civic, again heading to the airport. This time of the day, everybody wants to get to the airport. In a hurry. This is one of the challenges of the radio despatch system - how to handle the massive overload beyond normal bookings.
I swung the taxi into the entrance with a hurried air, got out and stared wildly around. Well, not quite, but i wasn't going to let this one get away!
As it happened he walked nonchalantly down the steps with a couple of cases. I opened up the boot and loaded them in, we waited for a colleague - "You can start the meter while we're waiting," he generously said, and I pressed the button to start the fare, one eye on the handbook - and when he appeared I loaded up his cases and we were off, the heart of at least one of us beating proudly!
I know the airport route well. Oddly enough. I even got the chance to chat about Qantas Frequent Flyer points and the best use of the lounge. Subjects close to my travel-geek heart.
And the we were there at the terminal. Everything happened at once, and I had to be reminded to pop the boot in the middle of working the credit card machine and pressing the button to stop the meter. But it was my first fare, and I wanted to get everything right. I even managed to work out how to print out a receipt for him. The business world demands receipts, and the credit card terminal made that easy enough.
(to be continued)
Accept of course.
A tiny pair of fuzzy black dice tucked up behind the rearview mirror reveals a certain relationshipo between the car and Richie, the day driver. Richie has been driving for three months and loves it. The job, I mean, not the car. He ran me through all the switches and instruments, jotted down a few notes for me on what to do at the end of my shift, and I did my best to follow along.
"Just one more thing..." Isaid, before he disappeared off to bed or dinner or a beer or a book or a blonde or whatever it is that taxidrivers do after driving for half the day. We had been advised at the school to take a good brisk twenty minute walk after a shift. Ten minutes striding to burn off the adrenalin and then ten minutes back, but Richie didn't look terribly stressed to me.
I handed him the camera and posed beside my first cab. That big smile is still on my face and I'm on top of the world.
And in a few minutes more, I was driving along suburban streets, hardly believing that I was piloting an actual taxicab in a professional manner, all by myself with out any adult supervision.
Beep-beep-beep! My heart skipped a beep. Here it was, my first fare!
What happens is that each cab is fitted with GPS gear, broadcasting its position back to base, and when a passenger makes a booking, the system searches for the next available cab in the correct area and sends the job offer. Dickson to the Airport, the MDT screen advised me. Accept or Reject?
Accept, of course! I was only a couple of minutes away - we have ten minutes to get to the job - and I pulled under the portico of the government building on Northbourne Avenue in good time. But there were only a few public servants dragging on cigarettes outside - in these days of environmental workplaces the few addicts that can stand the scorn of their workmates hanga round the building entrances, often prompting tourists in the middle of winter to wonder why Canberra has so many prostitutes. Nobody came bounding up to shake my hand and bask in the glory of being my first passenger. I waited five minutes, checked around the back entrance, went inside and forced the receptionist to ring around, but nobody there. he had probably grown tired of waiting, walked out to Northbourne Avenue a few metres away, and flagged down another cab.
So, back in the car, punch in a "no-show" (at this stage a matter of holding the driver's handbook in one hand and pressing buttons on the MDT with the other, referring from one to the other, a vital learning experience, much like getting a new electronic box to put on my TV, along with a manual and a new remote control to stack with the others), and then back on the road. My strategy for the night was to sit on the City Main rank, accept fares and return - a painless and productive plan for my first shift.
Within a few minutes, I had my next fare on the MDT. An office building near Civic, again heading to the airport. This time of the day, everybody wants to get to the airport. In a hurry. This is one of the challenges of the radio despatch system - how to handle the massive overload beyond normal bookings.
I swung the taxi into the entrance with a hurried air, got out and stared wildly around. Well, not quite, but i wasn't going to let this one get away!
As it happened he walked nonchalantly down the steps with a couple of cases. I opened up the boot and loaded them in, we waited for a colleague - "You can start the meter while we're waiting," he generously said, and I pressed the button to start the fare, one eye on the handbook - and when he appeared I loaded up his cases and we were off, the heart of at least one of us beating proudly!
I know the airport route well. Oddly enough. I even got the chance to chat about Qantas Frequent Flyer points and the best use of the lounge. Subjects close to my travel-geek heart.
And the we were there at the terminal. Everything happened at once, and I had to be reminded to pop the boot in the middle of working the credit card machine and pressing the button to stop the meter. But it was my first fare, and I wanted to get everything right. I even managed to work out how to print out a receipt for him. The business world demands receipts, and the credit card terminal made that easy enough.
(to be continued)
Accept of course.