Apr 27th, 2008
The hills are cold in these parts…
Our house wasn’t broken into last night thank Jehovah, but instead I was robbed today in broad daylight at work.
You might be imagining poor K8 the Gr8 wrestling for dear life with a scumbag and a handbag full of takings, but no, I’m learning a more sinister truth lately… it’s the Toffs in the hills surrounding Bray that are the real scoundrels.
I was sent to a large modern house on Nouveau Riche Avenue in the suburbs of Bray to pick up Mr and Mrs Toff. I was supposed to be bringing them to Blacklyon (in Bray or Greystones or wherever the hell it is), but soon found out that they wanted to go to Knocklyon, which is near Firhouse on the M50. CHA-CHING!- thinks me, as I radio the correction in.
-o-
Base: Ok, go ahead K8, That’ll be €48.
Mr Toff: (who is sitting beside me) No. No no no no no. That’s too much. That would bring me to the airport! No no no, €30.
I am stuck in a really nasty spot. I now have to radio in the complaint to see if Base will drop the price, when I know they won’t. I dither on the CB for a few seconds, then Mr Toff decides to ring the base himself.
He argues loudly and gives Headquarters hell, screaming about rates and distance and time and reports to management, then he orders me to bring him back home. His wife supports her husband by repeating the last word of each sentence back to him, which bugged the shit out of me.
Mr. Toff: This is absolutely ridiculous (now off the phone) behaviour from a reputable company. We shall never call this company again besides the call they’ll get from me tomorrow morning with proof that their rates are extortionate. Blah blah blah blah rant rant rant, all the way home. In my face, too, which was really bloody distracting.
-o-
When I dropped Mr and Mrs Toff back to their house (may it burn to the ground), they gave me absolutely no money for my time at all, even though I was polite throughout the whole ordeal. I had just wasted 40 minutes of my workday on two wankers just for the sake of being nice. I should have kicked them out of the car the second I realised they weren’t going to pay!!!
Curse this fucking need to please!!!!
I’m absolutely fucking raging that I didn’t kick them out right there on the N11 and get to bask in the image of their angry lost faces getting smaller and smaller in my rear-view mirror as I drove away for a proper fare.
I have most definately learned my lesson for the next time this happens.
“Sorry mate, pay up or stay here. It’s not personal, it’s business!”
