I am running late for work. I get a cab that will probably cost me more than I will make today. I can’t be late, so I put the driver under pressure. I know it is not fair but I do it anyways. He does everything that is possible for me to be on time.
I am living in a dirty full of roaches shared apartment, I am not meeting my career aspirations, people around me seem to have no soul and all the ones I love are very far away. I have nothing but my job at this side of the world and I can’t lose it. I am so desperate that I tell all this to him.
He feels very sorry for me.
He’s from India and shares an apartment with somebody too, although he’s more than 50. He used to have a wife but he’s divorced these days.
We’re in silent waiting for the traffic light to turn green when he suddenly says:
“I have no life. I’ve been inside this car for 25 years. When I get home I heat something in the microwave, lie on the couch, watch TV and sleep. Then I come back to the taxi”.
He continues feeling sorry for me although I’m not talking anymore. I can’t imagine a worse life than a life in a taxi.
We arrive at my workplace and he takes only half the money I should pay. “Don’t worry, okay? Things are going to be fine”, he says.
I am on time for work. His words resonate in my mind while I am walking. When I turn back, he’s still there smiling at me and waving his hand.