The Impossible Quest Of Hailing A Taxi On Christmas Eve (2 page)

"I'm not
giving you anything, you little extortionists! Coming here
uninvited, mangling out a couple of verses and then demanding
payment. No. And you, aren't you a Muslim?" he said and pointed at
the little Roma girl.

"We like
Christmas, it's a time for family and happiness," she replied with
her sweet little voice. "That's what mommy says," she
added.

Scrooge
squinted. "Do you know how insane that is? Celebrating the birth of
Christ from another religion? Tell your mother that I won't be
fooled by those pigtails and those big round eyes. A fine scam, if
you ask me. Getting money every year without a receipt," he
nodded.

The
children looked at one another, but since they were stuffed like
turkeys they had to turn their whole bodies to exchange glances.
They kept their hands up, paycards in hand, but a little lower
now.

"And
you," Scrooge said, pointing at the Nigerian boy. "What are
you?"

The
little black boy shrugged. "I'm Greek mister."

"So you
are Orthodox Christian?"

"Yes
sir. My name is Nico, from the Saint Nicholas," the boy replied,
the words repeated by heart. He gifted the bitter man a shiny-white
smile that could melt your heart and fill you up with
hope.

"Blasted
immigrants," Scrooge said and slammed the door to their
face.

Scrooge
sat on his desk and hit the button once again. His accounting
service attempted to connect for two whole minutes and then spat
out an error.

He
exhaled, his breath visible in the air. He picked up the phone, but
all he got was a recorded message. His assistant had already tried
that of course. He thought he wouldn't mind waiting for the server
to reconnect, but the absence of a specific timeframe made him
weary. If he had known of a general amount of time it might take,
he would be willing to wait. But alas, this seemed it would keep
him up till the morning.

Scrooge
grunted and searched his emails for the long overdue report of the
service upgrade that was necessary. He didn't print it of course,
toner was so damn expensive, as if it were made of gold particles.
Also, what about the environment? Yes, digital files are nice and
cheap. He put on his glasses and read the report his late business
partner had left him.

It
explained in detail the steps necessary to upgrade the accounting
service, to improve speed, customer experience and unlock some new
features. It was all ready and done, but it wasn't yet needed for a
company this small, as it was when his partner was alive. As poor
Marco fell increasingly ill, the business growth was halted and was
left on the shoulders of Scrooge. He could manage just fine thank
you, but regarding the computer and technical aspects it was all on
his partner. Scrooge had shopped around for another computer
engineer, and they had all asked for an arm and a leg in cash.
Marco in his last days, stir-crazy from lying in bed all day, had
prepared the system update for when the company would pick up pace
again.

The
problem was, that the upgrade demanded even more powerful servers,
some shiny new gear with fancy names and numbers, all costing more
and more and more. Scrooge had been postponing the upgrade for a
long time. He checked the report's date. Seven years? Has it really
been so long? Marco had planned for a year after his death, but
Scrooge hadn't changed anything for six more years, to the dismay
of their customers and Miss Clara.

Scrooge
rubbed his chin and his hand hovered over the mouse. He never did
things in haste, but now, for some reason, something was itching
him. He clicked the long-forgotten button in their system and
initiated the update program his partner had set-up as his last
contribution.

The
computer began to process things, as it always does and Scrooge
relaxed, sure that the process was a lengthy one.

Where
the program ran, a face appeared in a video. Scrooge had to
straighten his glasses to see better and for a second he held his
breath. He hadn't seen that face in so long, but it was clearly...
Marco's face.

Marco's
face was staring at him patiently. Then he moved slightly, and
Scrooge realised that the video had already began and Marco was
simply staring at his own monitor. He was pale and sickly,
illuminated harshly by the room-lamp and the monitor. His eyes were
sunken, his lips a thin line. These had been his final
days.

Marco cleared his throat. "Oh, it's on? Hello Scrooge. You do
know of course, that it's by that nickname that people are
referring to you. I suspect you know, but don't really care since
it empowers your reputation as being tough in business. Anyway,
they are referring of course to Disney's Scrooge McDuck, from those
old cartoons. The character though, comes from an older archetypal
character, that of Ebenezer Scrooge, in the book I have left for
you in my office. It is a remarkable tale, centuries old that has
seeped into our minds. You and I are pragmatists, I know that I
can't really scare you into changing your ways. That Scrooge, a
stingy bitter old man, was visited by three spirits, that showed
him the Christmas past, present and yet to come. There are no
spirits to do the same to you, but I hope that this message of me
one year after my death will bear the gravitas necessary to sink in
your thoughts. Please, my invaluable partner, please, read it and
think about your own life. As I lay here in my bed, between feeling
ill from medicine that was meant to make me well and vomiting from
the medicine that combat the first one's side-effects, I have had a
long time to think my life over. Money is not all there is in this
life. The truly precious stuff can't be bought. And if you have
them, treasure them while you can because time is fleeting. By now,
I assume your business acumen has brought our company -
your
company I guess -
to its previous positive profitability. I know you like to keep a
tight leash on expenses and that sometimes drives a wedge between
you and people, so please don't do that. Do not make the same
mistakes I did. Do not die alone. It's still early, there is still
time to change your fate. Merry Christmas, dear friend."

The
video ended and Scrooge lay silent, staring at the paused digital
ghost. Marco had been more than his business partner. He was his
friend, he trusted him with finances, with decisions that would
affect both their lives. What little competition there was between
them was nothing but a game, a nod from one to another to push
forward, to do good business deals, to bring in more customers, to
make more money. For both of them.

He
hadn't expected to hear his voice again after so many years, tired
and weary from the illness. This was a message that was supposed to
be delivered six years ago, forgotten in a computer. Scrooge
couldn't help but wonder, could his late partner be right? Was the
path he was on the wrong one? Was it too late?

"Bah!"
Scrooge blurted out and dismissed the video. He tried once more to
connect to his accounting service, and this time it came through.
He updated the accounts Clara had left for him, left the system
upgrade half-finished and closed shop for the day.

Stave
Two

Outside in
the street, it was getting darker and chillier. It was Christmas
Eve, downtown Athens was decorated with lights and snowflakes,
people were cheerful going up and down, carrying wrapped gifts and
last-minute dinner shopping. It wasn't snowing, but it was chilly
enough to see your breath and frost windows.

Scrooge
rubbed his hands together, tightened his old and patched coat and
got to the street corner. He took out his phone and used the
Supertaxi app, to call up his usual ride home. It only showed one
available driver, and Scrooge grunted. "A 4.6 star rating! Really,
I should send them a firm email about their low hiring standards.
The man might as well be a drunkard, for what I know!"

He tried
again for a few minutes but then decided to hail the driver through
the app. He stood and waited, sidestepping behind an advertisement
sign to shield himself a bit from the cold wind. He glanced at his
phone, which showed his route towards him. "Bah! He should have
turned earlier. The man is keeping a client waiting in the cold!
I'll have a firm talk with him when he gets there, just you
wait."

He was
beginning to shake. The taxi finally came, pulled aside and Scrooge
walked to the door. Before he could get in, the cabbie locked the
doors.

"What in
God's name?" Scrooge bellowed and rapped the door
handle.

The
window rolled down slightly and the cabbie turned to him. "Sorry
sir, we've had an unfortunate ride before. I had a switch in my
account and it didn't show up for some reason. I can't give you a
ride, you'll have to find someone else."

"That's
insane! Open this door at once," Scrooge said and raised his
chin.

"I'm
sorry sir, it is within my rights to refuse an undesirable client.
Merry Christmas," he said and started the car.

Scrooge
lost his temper, tapping on the window and demanding the driver to
stop. The taxi left, turning into Ermou, the busiest shopping road
and leaving him in the cold. "Did you see that? The man just left
me here," he told to a couple passing by, but they shrugged and
moved on.

His nose
was turning red from anger. He fished out his phone and tapped for
another taxi. There were no cars available, the app said. Please
try again in a few minutes, we are sorry for the inconvenience.
"What a horrible service! I'll be sure to leave them a firm review,
I tell you that," he muttered to himself. Scrooge didn't drive. He
had a license, sure, but he preferred to be driven and over the
years, his skill had vanished anyway along with his eyesight. It
was cheaper nowadays to use a service like Supertaxi, to use the
car only when you needed it, driver included. He had done the
balance sheet of course, it was the cheapest choice. He had been
using Supertaxi for years now, relying on them for his daily
commute to and forth from work, but also on the rare times when he
needed to visit someone, usually for work related issues, and
occasionally when he treated himself with a proper meal at a
restaurant. Nothing too fancy of course. He would have a steak on
his birthday, and a proper wine to wash it down. Table for
one.

And he
liked the Supertaxi's service, there was no interaction involved.
Sure, Greek cabbies were always talkative, but when they saw that
you didn't want to strike up a conversation they shut their yap and
drove along. No interaction was necessary, tap the app, hail the
cab, get inside, drive you there, get off and go home. The
destination was selected from the app, no need to explain the
address every time. So efficient. And the payment was taken
directly from his bank account, in a neat exportable spreadsheet
that could be put into his expenses with ease.

No
talking necessary. Scrooge loved it.

But now, he had to call up a
phone
, wait in
line
, talk to an
operator
, like
Neanderthals
. The horror. So he
found Supertaxi's phone number and called them to complain. He was
placed on hold, said to wait patiently by a recorded woman's voice
and was soothed by some modern music he had never heard of
before.

A few
minutes went by and Scrooge dropped the call in
frustration.

He
retried the app and found another taxi. A 4.9 star rating. That's
more like it, a proper gentleman. He hailed it and shoved his hands
in his pockets, enjoying his victory.

The taxi
arrived, a long and wide Mercedes, yellow of course but the colour
couldn't possibly detract from the elegant machine's beauty. It
stopped at the spot before him and Scrooge got in the back seat.
Warming seats, in fine black leather. Aaah... His joints untensed,
taking in the warmth. A smile came to his face, and he made himself
comfortable and waited for the driver to take him home.

The taxi
didn't move.

On the
contrary, the driver switched off the engine and leaned back to
him, putting his arm on the passenger seat's headrest. He was a
weary man, middle-aged, flecks of grey on the sides of his head. He
had a big well-trimmed moustache, quite old-fashioned. He seemed
friendly, a man from an older age, where politeness and hard work
were the norm. He was the kind that takes care of his old car,
drives safe, makes sure he is dressed clean and his trousers
ironed.

"Good
evening Mr. Scrooge," the driver said in a deep voice.

"Good
evening," Scrooge replied and turned to face the window
again.

"I've
been informed by the office upstairs that you have been flagged an
undesirable client."

Scrooge
stared back at him and his eyes flared. "What does that mean? I
have been a client for two decades! Is my money not good enough
anymore?"

"On the
contrary," the driver said remaining calm. "It's because you are
such a long time customer that instead of simply banning you from
our service, we wish to offer another option."