I love Comfort Cab

Ever since last Monday, I have been really really looking forward to being able to get taxis with greater ease. Or at least being able to call taxi with greater ease.

Unfortunately, I believe the regulations have simply pushed taxi drivers into a higher level of innovation. I understand the basic concept of creativity within our respective fields of expertise, but this is getting ridiculous.

Last Saturday at noon, a group of various assorted strangers stood at the side of Bayshore Road trying to flag taxis. They stood, they flagged, they watched as SH8201U (? I was so angry my memory may have blanked out) sped past with nary a passenger within and the 'available' light beaming brightly.

The same group stared blankly at SHA6557X which was parked barely 10 metres away with its red 'Hired' sign on. It was parked. It was empty. But it was 'Hired'. There it sat for 10 minutes whilst we stood and perspired and tried our best to get a goddamn taxi.

Finally, I called 6552 1111. Just as I got an automated message that taxi no. SHA6557X. would be coming to pick me up in 5 minutes, that same taxi that I had been sitting empty in front of me for the past 10 minutes whilst I carried my son flashed the on-call sign, drove up and picked me up.

I called 6552 1111 through a red haze of rage to tell them about this. "What would you like me to do" said the operator, sounding perplexed. "I would like you to take down the numbers" said me in red rage. "Ok. I will do that." she said, calmly, vaguely, like this actually mattered at all.

Older? Wiser? Better?

Sorry no posts for almost a month. Ultimately when I get down to it, I get a little glum thinking it's really not so much different from what I was thinking about 6 months ago/ 2 years ago/ 10 years ago. Every year about this time, I look back on the past year and I see .... a blizzard of paper, a file list and there is a vague memory of the ghosts of transactions past plus a bunch of emails from the ghosts of transactions present and future.

It's a little bit depressing (according to the ghosts of transactions future, there is the happy prospect of a December virtual dataroom review and a completion on New Years' Eve) and as usual I ponder the meaning of it all whilst telling every law student that I interface with that "it's not too late to change your mind". Law school is a blast, but practice is ... not. And by "... not" I mean a lifetime of drudgery. Don't say I never say. It's not too late to change your mind.

It's 10 pm and I am waiting for a conference call to start. I have 20 empty cookie tins in my office, I'm barely 1 week away from my 35th birthday, in my 12th year of practice, and I still don't quite understand the meaning of it all.