I have worked internationally for the majority of my career . . . and in the course of it, I have taken taxis, ridden shuttles, and been chauffered in limousines (usually paid for by corporate clients, of course), in more countries than I can remember - unless I sit down and think back through the timeline.
But today, in lil' ol' Masterton, I had the most impressive - but most importantly, uplifting - "ride" experience I ever remember having. And I'm pretty sure that if any came that close, I wouldn't have forgotten it.
What started as a normal day yesterday, suddenly became a nightmarish experience I hope I never repeat. I was on the phone to my dog's vet, and all I remember, was - what must have been some time later - looking up at the ceiling as I returned to consciousness.
I have no idea why it happened. There was nil warning. And the whole process repeated itself another two times in quick succession, before I made it to the phone to call for an ambulance . . . whose wonderful attendants assisted the process of getting my dog to a vet where he could be cared for, while they carted me off to the hospital.
The hospital stay with its CT scans, multiple blood tests, and the whole enchillada . . . topped off with the noisiest ward imaginable and the complete impossibility of achieving the, by then, much-needed sleep . . . was awful. So I checked myself out at 2am and hoped for a taxi at that hour in this small valley.
Within minutes, Robert Stephen, owner of Bluewhale Taxi Service was in the hospital's driveway. His manners were impeccable and his manner - against the backdrop of my "day" - was comforting. So it was a no-brainer to call him back this afternoon, to help me safely retrieve my little dog from the vet and get the little guy home.
True Class
And this was when I realised I was in the presence of true class.
Cognisant of the "venue" from which he'd returned me in the wee smalls of last morning, he came to the door, to see if I required any assistance, and opened the gate for me.
We arrived at the vet's, and (I was stunned) he turned off his meter while he accompanied me inside. (I was so glad he had offered to accompany me; the vet receptionist and nurse are truly awful and the stressed-out condition in which I retrieved my dog and their clear lack of any care or even basic customer service manners, was despicable.)
The process of them working out the bill (and how many items could be added to it e.g. an extra $90 "medication fee" for giving my dog the 4 eyedrops and one heart med capsule that take me three minutes to give him each morning and night) all took at least 10 - 15 minutes, albeit their response to my asking if he had eaten (he is anorexic) took less than five seconds:
"I dunno; there was a can of food opened and it's on your bill; he's probably had a few tablespoons of it", as she "passed" - and more like dumped - over my frail little 15-year-old, 4.6kg dog like a low-value sack of spuds, hanging under one arm, coathanger-style). Worth noting that my dog had had twice-veterinary appointments there for the previous week, for a severe gut issue and resultant dangerous-level weight loss. in other words, making sure he ate was potentially central to his actual survival.
But I digress. Another article on the appalling level of veterinary care in Masterton will be forthcoming at a later date. Back to the story.
True Compassion
My "chauffeur" (I cannot in good conscience call him just a "taxi driver") transported all my dog's bedding, toys and meds etc carefully to his taxi, and helped me in, holding Harry.
I was so distressed from Harry's stressed-out state and the whole "experience" of retrieving him, that I asked Robert if he would stop at my dear friends' shop in town, whereby I would ask them if they would look after Harry in any unforeseen event (which they agreed without reservation to do, upon seeing the stressed-out state in which he'd been given back to me by the vet staff).
When I'd gotten out of the car to enter my friends' gardening store, I'd instructed "Chauffeur Robert" to continue running his meter this time. Fair is fair. It's not like I've been some regular client, since I generally drive myself where I want to go.
Well-Timed Goodwill
Yet, as I got out, I saw him once again pause his meter. When he returned me home, the bill was a paltry $30 for what turned out, unexpectedly, to have been an hour's high-class and highly compassionate, personalised chauffering.
He opened the door, reached in to give me his arm - in the manner of a
Claridge's butler or doorman with elite training in the hospitality arts - and then brought Harry's gear back courteously and considerately into my property, before ensuring I had made my way safely inside, and calling out a smiling, "Good Evening".
It's my understanding that he is the taxi operator of choice in these parts, by those who prefer to have their "regular" taxi driver, and particularly local businesspeople. All I can say is, the Wairarapa is fortunate indeed to have his services, his style and his extraordinary example of well-timed goodwill.
Thank you, Robert Stephen. You were a great comfort in an otherwise horror story 48 hours - and the cup of human kindness I desperately needed today.
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Sequel re
the vet / dog "care" element of this story:
Not good. My little guy hasn't been the same since I retrieved him from this frightful vet clinic yesterday. He's like I've never seen him before: Depressed demeanour. Follows my every move. Wetting the floor (almost unheard of), as though his "stay" at this establishment has done something to upset his entire system. And once again, therefore, I relied on the trusted, timely and comforting services today, of Robert Stephens of Bluewhale Taxis, to drive me to get him groomed, in the hope that a visit to the groomer, whom he loves, Dionne of Pampered Paws, might perk him up. She managed to make a temporary change to his depressed state . . . but whatever that vet clinic's erstwhile staff did to him, has really impacted him. IMHO, they should be closed down. Forthwith.
