I was born in Ano Glyfada. I’m thirty-eight years old. After high school, I went to a vocational college, where I studied gold and silversmithing. After that, I worked in my dad’s business, together with my dad and the rest of my family, my siblings and so on.
The economic crisis hit Greece in around 2008, and there were several firms in our market that went bust, which meant we lost a lot of money. We weren’t making enough to support everyone, let me put it like that. It so happened that my brother, one of the two, had a taxi, and he suggested that I tried that: so, I did.
You get up in the morning. Make your coffee and get into your vehicle. Your taxi. You set off, head out for work, and start picking people up. You stop when you think that you’ve earned enough for the day to get by, and then you go home. From then on, the challenges and the worries are who gets in. Who you might come across could be anyone from a top scientist to a kid who’s on drugs, an alcoholic, a murderer. You never know. It’s just luck.
I once picked up a client. The guy must’ve had mental issues. I was taking him to Pangrati, to the social security office there, when he realized that he’d forgotten his health booklet. And he started to beat his face, really hard, by himself, and he kept saying: ‘No!’ and like, ‘I forgot it...’ And swearing, at God, everything. And he was beating himself like he was being beaten, like some stranger was beating on him. He had no idea how hard. He was bleeding. His face was covered in blood.
That’s when I got scared. Not so much that he’d hit me. I didn’t know what he was like. Maybe he’d get out and say I’d hit him, and then I’d be in it. I couldn’t prove that I hadn’t hit him. When you see someone bleeding, you’re going to think it’s the other guy that hit him.
Truth be told, you used to become a taxi driver when you couldn’t find another job. I mean, you were no good for anything else; it was an easy solution. So, a taxi driver could be any nut job, to put it simply. Now, with the crisis, a lot of educated guys started taxiing, and the standard has gone up. First and foremost, the way we drive. I’m not saying that mistakes aren’t made, OK? We all make mistakes. I mean, when you’re... just imagine, every day, you do twelve, thirteen-hour days, behind the wheel, fourteen hours. Mistakes are going to happen.
The bad thing is that a taxi is yellow; the car is stigmatised just because of its colour. If it was white, yellow, red, and you did something, let’s say ‘stupid’, they would say: ‘That guy cut me off.’ Because it’s yellow: ‘The taxi cut me off’. And, because there are a lot of taxis on the road, that’s the conclusion they come to: that all taxi drivers drive like this.
This used to be true. They stopped where they wanted, no manners… A taxi driver has a good education. I’m not saying a taxi driver who is a taxi driver by profession. The guy driving the car could be a chemist, a scientist, whatever. And his job didn’t go well, so he started driving a taxi. You don’t lose your education and your intellectual level because... The profession doesn’t make the man. The man makes the profession.
The crisis was tough. What stuck with me were the Cypriots that got into the taxi. Coming in and moaning. Because Cypriots lost 50% of their bank deposits over 100,000 euro. So, if they had 200,000 euro, they went straight down to 100. If they had 120, 100 again. It was a lot of money. I mean, this guy got in and asked me: ‘How are things going in Greece?’ and I said: ‘It’s a mess.’ And he suddenly starts crying. And he says to me: ‘Man, this guy you’re looking at had 200,000 in the bank, and now I have 100; from one day to the next. It was my life savings!’ It got to me.
The only difference between us and a psychologist, firstly and most importantly, is that we don’t have a degree. But we have a degree from the streets if you know what I mean. We don’t get paid for what we do. The stuff I’ve heard in the taxi when people pour out their soul to you... And they open up more to a taxi driver than a shrink. Because they’ll see the shrink again. They’re fairly sure they’ll never see the taxi driver again.
It’s the women who usually shock me. Women talk to a taxi driver, not like to their hairdresser... Honestly, the stuff I’ve heard from women I haven’t even heard from my best friend. How they’re cheating on their husband, who they’re cheating on him with, and why they’re cheating on him.
I picked up—and this is too much, a one in a million chance of it happening, but it happened—I picked up a beautiful woman. A really beautiful woman. And she says:
‘Flisvos Marina, please.’
‘Of course’, I say.
And then she starts saying: ‘Do you think I’m beautiful?’
And I reply: ‘You’re a very beautiful woman.’ Only as far as was proper. No flirting.
And she wasn’t flirting either. She just wanted confirmation from a stranger.
‘And I’m going on a date with a gentleman. I don’t know what kind of man he is; if he’s generous. If he spends money on a woman.’
And I say: ‘I don’t know how to respond to that.’ This was in the first ten minutes after she got in, right?
And she kept on talking to me and asking if she was a good-looking woman. And I say: ‘You are incredibly beautiful’, I said, ‘Are you looking for reassurance? Because you don’t need it. Just go outside’, I say, ‘you’ll hear the comments.’ Anyway, ‘Thanks very much’, and I drop her off there.
A week later, someone calls a taxi from an app I use, and a man comes down with two kids. And with him, it’s the same woman who comes down! The woman I took the week before to meet another man! I remembered her as soon as I saw her. And she turned white because she remembered me! When I say she turned white... I think if she saw a vampire, there would be less fear in her eyes.
I didn’t pay her any attention, not even messing with her or joking around. Which I usually do, to tell you the truth. I kept myself really distant, not to drop her in it... I really didn’t want to drop her in it; there was no way I was going to say something. I wouldn’t put her... It was too sweet a family for me to mess with. I don’t know what problems they had, but I couldn’t do that to them. That’s it. I mean to say that, sometimes, your sins are going to find you out.
I’ve been kind of traumatised by accidents that have happened right in front of me. Motorcycles, I mean whatever, and I’ve been really affected by all the careless driving there is. Something I hadn’t noticed driving half an hour to work each day, when I was at my old job. There are so many careless drivers. I couldn’t believe how many there are. They drive like there’s no tomorrow. I mean, they don’t give a damn. They go through alleys, really narrow roads, STOP signs and such, like they’re on the highway. That has really affected me. And it makes me angry.
I don’t regret changing jobs. If I could have, I would have done it in better times. It would be hard to give up the freedom this job gives me. Because some people have said... A lot of my friends have asked me, like: ‘If you got more money, would you change jobs?’ Some things, you just can’t put a price on. I mean, I’m not interested in getting better pay if, let’s say, the working environment is tragic. In the sense of having a boss who treats you like a slave or whatever just because he pays you.
You’ve got to work hard to make your money. But the thing is, it’s just you; you and your clients. Some others, especially if they’re younger, see it like going for a ride. Because I’m not—I have a family and a kid—I don’t see it like going for a ride. But my mind’s at peace. I know I’ll do something. That’s all.