Inconsiderate

If you’re a Taxi driver, I suggest you leave now. It’s not safe for you here. However, if you insist…

Taxi drivers + bad attitude = you made my day.
No, not all of them apply to the above-mentioned mathematical operation. We all know that. We’ve all experienced taxi drivers like we’ve experienced how to correctly locate the spoon to enter our mouths when eating and we don’t even need to think about it. Of course, that is unless you had been fed with a gold spoon ever since you were born. In that case, all of the above (and below) does not apply to you.
Back to the story.
My mother and I went out of the hospital after asking the man sitting at the “taxi calling” counter to turn on the revolving warning light. The light is reminiscent of an exterior ambulance light. You might as well say they snatched one off an ambulance car and put it there. The light is on and so is the wait for a taxi cab to arrive.
Four minutes pass by and a cab arrives. I opened the front cab door and informed the taxi driver about the destination. The taxi driver seemed like he’s in a hurry. That’s always the impression though, they rarely are in a hurry. After informing him about the destination, I proceeded to ask the him whether he will be using the meter or the price will be announced on the spot before we got in.
Here’s the twist.
He suddenly interrupted me stating that it’s his business and that I am not supposed to ask whether the price will be metered or announced on the spot. My answer to that was simple: “Look, it is my right to know whether you will tell me about the price now or we will be using the meter instead, since each taxi  driver is random, some use the…” Not surprisingly, he interrupted again: “If it was your job, I would not tell you how to do your job.” In other words, he is indirectly stripping me off my rights to ask such a simple, polite and might I say a very general question. He was trying to play smart. Maybe he wasn’t, but that’s the energy I felt coming from him.
At that moment, I remembered the power of pause. Meanwhile, my mother went ahead and nearly opened the back door when I gently put my hand on hers to stop her from doing so. Two seconds later, I decided there was no use arguing with this taxi driver, not that I consider the above scenario to be an argument – I was just making sense – if I went on after his second interruption then I would call it an argument.
I simply waved to the right : “Go, go.”
I shut the front door slightly stronger than I would. He left.  

He made my day.

Another taxi cab came in less than a minute later. This taxi driver however, was not in the mathematical operation mentioned up there.

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