Shortchanged

He was pretending to look for coins, which was obviously not there and if there were then he would pretend it did not exist.

Dressed in dirty white polo, time-worn sando peeking from the inside, dark pants he looked at me and flatly delivered a mantra I always hear before I alight, “wala ho ba kayong barya? Wala ho kasi akong barya eh.”

Sighing I rummage in my bag to look for the exact amount needed. I have heard this line too many times that I am tempted to say the words even before I hand in my payment.

Retrieving the one hundred peso bill, I handed him a fifty peso bill saying, “meron po pala dito.” Then I look him straight in the eye, expectant, alternating my gaze from him to the red figures in the taxi meter which proclaimed what I owed him, forty five pesos, no more, no less.

He too looks at me questioningly, wondering what was keeping me in his smelly cab. His first impression would be I was either a loony or a scrooge.

A month in Metro Manila does not make me an expert on how it is to live here. But coming from Baguio City where taxi drivers are known to be honest, considerate and often courteous, it is quite hard to recover from this culture shock.

Bite me!