Shelley Bridgeman: Curious taxi tales and mini-van hell

The cliché of taxi drivers is that they are chatty, opinionated types capable of solving the world's problems. Photo / Getty

I've taken hundreds of taxis over the years and have always been delivered to my destination in a timely manner by polite drivers. I don't think I've ever been taken the "long way around". Even so, I have identified six quirks of the taxi industry that may be worth pondering.

1. Over-qualified drivers
Legend has it your taxi driver just might be a doctor or a rocket scientist in their country of origin. Because their qualification is not recognised in New Zealand they can't work in their chosen vocation and therefore must ferry passengers around in order to earn a crust. I don't know the actual number of immigrants who are in this situation but I do know that I automatically assume that any taxi driver who does not appear to be a local is an underemployed genius.

2. The opinions
The cliché of taxi drivers is that they are chatty, opinionated types capable of solving all the world's problems. I must admit I quite like a talk-free taxi journey. A couple of pleasantries about the weather and maybe about the jolly flag is usually all the chitchat I am up for. The other week I had a seriously talkative driver on the way home from Federal Street. He offered views about a particular immigrant group and dissected they way they operate. The fact he'd migrated from a country sharing a border with the one he was discussing reminded me of the rivalry between New Zealanders and Australians. Critiquing your neighbours must be a global phenomenon.

3. Information gathering
A few years ago I innocently called a taxi from my cellphone and before I could even say where I wanted to be picked up from, the person had suggested some addresses that might be suitable. This taxi company had compiled a list of all the places I'd been picked up from over recent months. It felt like a violation of privacy. Had I given permission for this data to be gathered? Was the company within its rights to collect it, store it and regurgitate it?

In an attempt to foil the system, I vowed to never be collected from the same place twice by the same taxi company. This plan backfired when I called a taxi to go to the airport, and the address I wanted to be picked up from was on the list recited to me. Bother! I needed to think fast so I gave the address of a café around the corner and tottered to it in my high heels while carrying my cabin bag. Ha! That'll teach them. I really hoped this address-storing feature wasn't supposed to enhance convenience for customers because it was proving a bit of a hassle for me.

4. Blocking driveways
You call a taxi to arrive at a certain time. The taxi arrives five or ten minutes early so everything should be fine, right? Well, the only trouble is that every taxi driver I have ever encountered parks his or her vehicle across the driveway. Now this might not be a problem normally but on busy days when the babysitter is arriving, a visitor is leaving and the other half is due home from work, it most definitely is inconvenient to have your driveway blocked off for that short but hectic period.

Requests to not block the driveway are routinely ignored. Once I tried out a new strategy by giving the address next door. No taxi driver would be inconsiderate enough to block a driveway leading to multiple properties, surely. Oops. Wrong. That particular driver had no qualms about blocking it. In fact he was already knocking on the door of one of the neighbouring houses when we emerged just before the appointed time. Sorry about that. My bad.

5. The curiosity
When does simple chitchat turn into sinister inquiry? I pondered this 20 odd years ago in a taxi bound for Auckland airport. "Where are you going?" the driver asked. "London," I replied. Excitement about my trip meant I was in a mood to share information. His next question threw me, though. "How long are you away for?" he asked. Oh no! It would be unwise to tell this (or any) stranger that the house he'd just collected me from would be unoccupied for a month. So I lied. "Just for the weekend," I replied, realising such a feat would only be possible if I boarded a return flight as soon as I arrived at Heathrow.

6. My mini-van hell
Sometimes I quite like sitting in the back of a taxi and watching the world go by while someone else drives. It can be a little bit of luxury in an otherwise ordinary day. So imagine my consternation when a (definitely not luxurious) mini-van turned up instead of a car. "But I'm just one person, not a whole sports team," I think as I climb aboard and proceed to rattle around while silently listing all the reasons I hate mini-vans.