This is s BIG question! Because ultimately it boils down to the question: why do people hate ME?
I’ll give an example:
It was a freezing day back in May when I picked up Norma Fordham from a surgery in Lane Cove. She had been standing in the cold for nearly half an hour, waiting for a taxi that never arrived. The job had been rejected by every other taxi driver in Lane Cove. And why? Because it was “just a local job”.
Meanwhile, back on Lane Cove rank stood a long queue of taxis, their drivers waiting for a job to the airport, or a similarly long fare – like a mentally defective poker machine player who rejects every payout but a jackpot.
As she got out of the cab, Mrs Fordham turned to me and said: “Thank you for picking me up. By the way, I turn 100 next month.”
I’m happy to say that Norma Fordham DID go on to celebrate her 100th birthday – in real style. But what if she had succumbed during her wait, due to the selfish actions (or non-action) of a bunch of lazy cabbies?