After enjoying a sensible night in Civic a little while ago now, and before I had met my beautiful fiancé, I had an incident with a lovely lady, a devious taxi driver, and my phone.
I remember being happily driven to an abode which was not mine at about 2am. Unexpectedly, and not by my volition, I began a conversation with the taxi driver about politics; he was completely happy and comfortable to converse with me. He disclosed to me that he voted for tony Abbott. Politely, I asked why.
He said to me, and my female company, very sternly, that he voted for Tony Abbott because he didn’t believe that women are suited for high office.
Needless to say, I gave him a thorough shellacking, dressed him down to his bare bones and then had his guts for garters. Having arrived at our destination (her parent’s place!!!), and feeling dismayed yet happy that I gave him what for, I paid the man and slammed the door in justified self-righteousness, only to realise that on the back seat my phone had fallen out of my pocket and was speedily departing into the abyss of a Canberra Friday night.
The next morning I called Vodafail to ask if there had been any calls made since my phone departed from my parched pocket. There had been, and Vodafail gave me the numbers that had been called, some of which were international numbers. I decided to call these numbers. After a series of cunning
impersonations, deceptions and investigation, one person cracked and gave me the name and personal phone number of the driver who had been using my phone – the taxi driver from last night!
I called the taxi driver and told him that all I cared about was getting my phone back and if he did so, that would be the end of that. He refused to cooperate, and because I would have died if I lost all of my numbers saved on the phone, I passed the information onto the police, who were extraordinarily helpful. After asking me a few questions relating to how I extracted the information that identified the perpetrator, my misogynist taxi driver was visited by the police.
I was quite surprised and grateful for how helpful the police were, and I suppose I found it a little intriguing and pleasant to be on the right side of the law for once.
To cut a long story short, and after a bit of good old-fashioned police work, Constable Paul Yates (a great chap) retrieved my phone and delivered it to my house.
I was asked if I wanted to press charges.
Not knowing the man’s history, and considering the possible implications for him personally, I didn’t feel comfortable pressing charges against him. However, the perpetrator, unprovoked, did express some extremely derogatory sentiments regarding the status of women in society before stealing my phone, and I note that he did expend thirty dollars of my phone credit calling a foreign country.
I wrote to Constable Paul Yates, ‘I do not wish to press charges, but to the extent that it is in your power, I would appreciate that you suggest to the perpetrator that he forward compensation to me in the form of a cheque in the amount of thirty dollars for a women’s charity. I will happily deliver
the cheque. Feel free to pass on my details to him if you think he needs any assistance, and please advise him that if he doesn’t feel so inclined I might reconsider my position.
Mr taxi driver, I still have your name and number; I suggest you make a donation to a woman’s charity before Christmas.
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