Free The Other Side of Midnight by Mike Heffernan

they probably got a good education. I mean, there’s teachers and everything else that’s after driving a taxi at one time or an- other. After the inquiry, I applied for fifty jobs. I’m probably the most experienced lab technician in the province—maybe in Canada— and I couldn’t get a job. No one ever gave me a reason why they wouldn’t hire me. I’m after taking stuff off of my resume. Can you believe that? I had to take stuff off of my fucking resume. It was either I had too much experience, or they thought I was looking for too much money, or because I was too old. I’m driving a taxi not because I want to but because I got to.
    There Is No Life as a Taxi Driver
    Brian, driving for four years
    I was working for Newfoundland Farm Products Corporation as a plant manager. A year before they privatized the place they made my job redundant and put me out through the door.
    I was eighteen months away from a full pension. Then, all of a sudden, I had nothing. I developed a stress disease. I went to my family doctor, and he said, “If you don’t do something soon, you’ve got four to six months before you’re in a box.”
    â€œIs that so?” I said. “You have a good day.”
    I left his office, went to the liquor store and bought a bottle of rum and started drinking.
    My wife came home and said, “What’s going on?”
    I said, “Nothing. I’m just having a few drinks.”
    It was out of the normal because I never drank like that.
    The next day, I got up, made a few phone calls, and went to work for AT & T Canada as a sales representative. I stayed at that for a few months, and then I went into business with Integrated Poultry Limited. They had just bought out Newfoundland Farm Products Corporation. IPL never lasted; they went under. But I knew that, anyway. Having been the plant manager down there, I knew right away what was going on. I knew the industry inside out. When they went under, Country Ribbon took it over. Because I was only there under contract, they got someone else to do the work I was doing for them.
    When that finished, I went to work up in Alberta, did some training and came back home.
    I knew Peter Gulliver, and I asked him if he was in need of any drivers. He said, “Sure. Come to work with us. No problem.” I’ve been here ever since.
    In order to make any money at this racket you got to work a lot of hours. I used to make $60,000 a year. I worked eight hours five days a week and made $60,000 a year with six weeks holidays. With taxiing, you got to work every day. You can’t have weekends off because if you take weekends off you won’t make enough money. You can come out here and work twelve hours and go home with $30 in your pocket. Whereas you can go downtown on a Friday or Saturday night and make ten times as much.
    There is no life as a taxi driver. There is just no life. But you got to make a living. I usually come out around ten or eleven o’clock and I stay on until twelve or one in the morning. Last year, I started driving the school bus. I get up at seven o’clock and pick up the bus and start working. I could take off a day, or two days, or however many I want to take off, but then I got no salary coming in.
    I was out of a job for thirteen months, and I had to use my pension in order to live. I had a mortgage and car payments. I had to draw on my pension to live. If I had left my pension alone, if I was able to, I’d have a pension today and I wouldn’t have to be out taxiing. But I couldn’t do that.
    For me to get another job I would have to leave the province. At my age, I’m not going to do that. I’m fifty-seven. I’ll be fifty-eight on my birthday. I’ll be doing this for another little while, I guess— until my wife retires. Then I’ll say to hell with it. Life’s too short.
    I’m Stuck at This
    Steven, driving for eight years
    I hurt