The children looked at one another, but since they were stuffed like turkeys they had to turn their whole bodies to exchange glances. They kept their hands up, paycards in hand, but a little lower now.
“And you,” Scrooge said, pointing at the Nigerian boy. “What are you?”
The little black boy shrugged. “I’m Greek mister.”
“So you are Orthodox Christian?”
“Yes sir. My name is Nico, from the Saint Nicholas,” the boy replied, the words repeated by heart. He gifted the bitter man a shiny-white smile that could melt your heart and fill you up with hope.
“Blasted immigrants,” Scrooge said and slammed the door to their face.
Scrooge sat on his desk and hit the button once again. His accounting service attempted to connect for two whole minutes and then spat out an error.
He exhaled, his breath visible in the air. He picked up the phone, but all he got was a recorded message. His assistant had already tried that of course. He thought he wouldn’t mind waiting for the server to reconnect, but the absence of a specific timeframe made him weary. If he had known of a general amount of time it might take, he would be willing to wait. But alas, this seemed it would keep him up till the morning.
Scrooge grunted and searched his emails for the long overdue report of the service upgrade that was necessary. He didn’t print it of course, toner was so damn expensive, as if it were made of gold particles. Also, what about the environment? Yes, digital files are nice and cheap. He put on his glasses and read the report his late business partner had left him.
It explained in detail the steps necessary to upgrade the accounting service, to improve speed, customer experience and unlock some new features. It was all ready and done, but it wasn’t yet needed for a company this small, as it was when his partner was alive. As poor Marco fell increasingly ill, the business growth was halted and was left on the shoulders of Scrooge. He could manage just fine thank you, but regarding the computer and technical aspects it was all on his partner. Scrooge had shopped around for another computer engineer, and they had all asked for an arm and a leg in cash. Marco in his last days, stir-crazy from lying in bed all day, had prepared the system update for when the company would pick up pace again.
The problem was, that the upgrade demanded even more powerful servers, some shiny new gear with fancy names and numbers, all costing more and more and more. Scrooge had been postponing the upgrade for a long time. He checked the report’s date. Seven years? Has it really been so long? Marco had planned for a year after his death, but Scrooge hadn’t changed anything for six more years, to the dismay of their customers and Miss Clara.
Scrooge rubbed his chin and his hand hovered over the mouse. He never did things in haste, but now, for some reason, something was itching him. He clicked the long-forgotten button in their system and initiated the update program his partner had set-up as his last contribution.
The computer began to process things, as it always does and Scrooge relaxed, sure that the process was a lengthy one.
Where the program ran, a face appeared in a video. Scrooge had to straighten his glasses to see better and for a second he held his breath. He hadn’t seen that face in so long, but it was clearly… Marco’s face.
Marco’s face was staring at him patiently. Then he moved slightly, and Scrooge realised that the video had already began and Marco was simply staring at his own monitor. He was pale and sickly, illuminated harshly by the room-lamp and the monitor. His eyes were sunken, his lips a thin line. These had been his final days.
Marco cleared his throat. “Oh, it’s on? Hello Scrooge. You do know of course, that it’s by that nickname that people are referring to you. I suspect you know, but don’t really care since it empowers your reputation as being tough in business. Anyway, they are referring of course to Disney’s Scrooge McDuck, from those old cartoons. The character though, comes from an older archetypal character, that of Ebenezer Scrooge, in the book I have left for you in my office. It is a remarkable tale, centuries old that has seeped into our minds. You and I are pragmatists, I know that I can’t really scare you into changing your ways. That Scrooge, a stingy bitter old man, was visited by three spirits, that showed him the Christmas past, present and yet to come. There are no spirits to do the same to you, but I hope that this message of me one year after my death will bear the gravitas necessary to sink in your thoughts. Please, my invaluable partner, please, read it and think about your own life. As I lay here in my bed, between feeling ill from medicine that was meant to make me well and vomiting from the medicine that combat the first one’s side-effects, I have had a long time to think my life over. Money is not all there is in this life. The truly precious stuff can’t be bought. And if you have them, treasure them while you can because time is fleeting. By now, I assume your business acumen has brought our company - your company I guess - to its previous positive profitability. I know you like to keep a tight leash on expenses and that sometimes drives a wedge between you and people, so please don’t do that. Do not make the same mistakes I did. Do not die alone. It’s still early, there is still time to change your fate. Merry Christmas, dear friend.”
The video ended and Scrooge lay silent, staring at the paused digital ghost. Marco had been more than his business partner. He was his friend, he trusted him with finances, with decisions that would affect both their lives. What little competition there was between them was nothing but a game, a nod from one to another to push forward, to do good business deals, to bring in more customers, to make more money. For both of them.
He hadn’t expected to hear his voice again after so many years, tired and weary from the illness. This was a message that was supposed to be delivered six years ago, forgotten in a computer. Scrooge couldn’t help but wonder, could his late partner be right? Was the path he was on the wrong one? Was it too late?
“Bah!” Scrooge blurted out and dismissed the video. He tried once more to connect to his accounting service, and this time it came through. He updated the accounts Clara had left for him, left the system upgrade half-finished and closed shop for the day.
Stave Two
Outside in the street, it was getting darker and chillier. It was Christmas Eve, downtown Athens was decorated with lights and snowflakes, people were cheerful going up and down, carrying wrapped gifts and last-minute dinner shopping. It wasn’t snowing, but it was chilly enough to see your breath and frost windows.
Scrooge rubbed his hands together, tightened his old and patched coat and got to the street corner. He took out his phone and used the Supertaxi app, to call up his usual ride home. It only showed one available driver, and Scrooge grunted. “A 4.6 star rating! Really, I should send them a firm email about their low hiring standards. The man might as well be a drunkard, for what I know!”
He tried again for a few minutes but then decided to hail the driver through the app. He stood and waited, sidestepping behind an advertisement sign to shield himself a bit from the cold wind. He glanced at his phone, which showed his route towards him. “Bah! He should have turned earlier. The man is keeping a client waiting in the cold! I’ll have a firm talk with him when he gets there, just you wait.”
He was beginning to shake. The taxi finally came, pulled aside and Scrooge walked to the door. Before he could get in, the cabbie locked the doors.
“What in God’s name?” Scrooge bellowed and rapped the door handle.
The window rolled down slightly and the cabbie turned to him. “Sorry sir, we’ve had an unfortunate ride before. I had a switch in my account and it didn’t show up for some reason. I can’t give you a ride, you’ll have to find someone else.”
“That’s insane! Open this door at once,” Scrooge said and raised his chin.
“I’m sorry sir, it is within my rights to refuse an undesirable client. Merry Christmas,” he said and started the car.
Scrooge lost his temper, tapping on the window and demanding the driver to stop. The taxi left, turning into Ermou, the busie
st shopping road and leaving him in the cold. “Did you see that? The man just left me here,” he told to a couple passing by, but they shrugged and moved on.
His nose was turning red from anger. He fished out his phone and tapped for another taxi. There were no cars available, the app said. Please try again in a few minutes, we are sorry for the inconvenience. “What a horrible service! I’ll be sure to leave them a firm review, I tell you that,” he muttered to himself. Scrooge didn’t drive. He had a license, sure, but he preferred to be driven and over the years, his skill had vanished anyway along with his eyesight. It was cheaper nowadays to use a service like Supertaxi, to use the car only when you needed it, driver included. He had done the balance sheet of course, it was the cheapest choice. He had been using Supertaxi for years now, relying on them for his daily commute to and forth from work, but also on the rare times when he needed to visit someone, usually for work related issues, and occasionally when he treated himself with a proper meal at a restaurant. Nothing too fancy of course. He would have a steak on his birthday, and a proper wine to wash it down. Table for one.
And he liked the Supertaxi’s service, there was no interaction involved. Sure, Greek cabbies were always talkative, but when they saw that you didn’t want to strike up a conversation they shut their yap and drove along. No interaction was necessary, tap the app, hail the cab, get inside, drive you there, get off and go home. The destination was selected from the app, no need to explain the address every time. So efficient. And the payment was taken directly from his bank account, in a neat exportable spreadsheet that could be put into his expenses with ease.
No talking necessary. Scrooge loved it.
But now, he had to call up a phone, wait in line, talk to an operator, like Neanderthals. The horror. So he found Supertaxi’s phone number and called them to complain. He was placed on hold, said to wait patiently by a recorded woman’s voice and was soothed by some modern music he had never heard of before.
A few minutes went by and Scrooge dropped the call in frustration.
He retried the app and found another taxi. A 4.9 star rating. That’s more like it, a proper gentleman. He hailed it and shoved his hands in his pockets, enjoying his victory.
The taxi arrived, a long and wide Mercedes, yellow of course but the colour couldn’t possibly detract from the elegant machine’s beauty. It stopped at the spot before him and Scrooge got in the back seat. Warming seats, in fine black leather. Aaah… His joints untensed, taking in the warmth. A smile came to his face, and he made himself comfortable and waited for the driver to take him home.
The taxi didn’t move.
On the contrary, the driver switched off the engine and leaned back to him, putting his arm on the passenger seat’s headrest. He was a weary man, middle-aged, flecks of grey on the sides of his head. He had a big well-trimmed moustache, quite old-fashioned. He seemed friendly, a man from an older age, where politeness and hard work were the norm. He was the kind that takes care of his old car, drives safe, makes sure he is dressed clean and his trousers ironed.
“Good evening Mr. Scrooge,” the driver said in a deep voice.
“Good evening,” Scrooge replied and turned to face the window again.
“I’ve been informed by the office upstairs that you have been flagged an undesirable client.”
Scrooge stared back at him and his eyes flared. “What does that mean? I have been a client for two decades! Is my money not good enough anymore?”
“On the contrary,” the driver said remaining calm. “It’s because you are such a long time customer that instead of simply banning you from our service, we wish to offer another option.”
“Banning me?” Scrooge spat out. “How can you ban me? I’m the paying customer! I give a star rating to the driver at the end of every ride.”
The driver raised his palm. “And the driver gives a star rating back to you,” he added.
Scrooge was caught unaware for a moment. Really? They rated him back? “What sort of business are you, banning paying customers?”
“You sir, have been rude to six out of ten drivers in these last few years,” the driver said calmly, reading from a list on the tablet on his dashboard. “Have filed complaints to five out of ten, have rated below three stars almost nine out of ten, and have verbally assaulted four out of ten.”
“That’s just stupid. I have only made valid complaints where there was necessary. When I’m paying I demand a certain level of-”
The driver looked back at him. “You don’t remember me do you, Sir?”
Scrooge gawked with his mouth open, trying to recall.
The driver sighed. “Well, I guess us cabbies really are invisible. Anyway, the Supertaxi Terms and Conditions you have signed and agreed to by using our service, allow us to deny access to undesirable customers.” He put a big index finger in Scrooge’s face. “You Sir, are undesirable.”
“That’s insane,” Scrooge let out with a hiss. “What do you want, a bribe? I’m not giving you one.”
“I couldn’t accept a bribe, everything we do and say is recorded Sir.”
Scrooge looked around the spacious car. “Recorded?”
“Of course. For your safety and ours. It’s in the Terms and Conditions,” the driver explained.
“I didn’t know that,” Scrooge said, his eyes darting around the place, looking for cameras.
The driver tapped the ceiling of the car, where a slight bump housed the cabin light. “It’s right here. It’s not hidden, nor is it a secret. It’s just discreet.”
Scrooge lifted up the coat to cover his throat and said, “Whatever. It’s been a hard day’s work, I need to get home and rest. Take me there.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that yet.”
“You what?”
“As a long-time customer, you are entitled to a special condition. You need to accept a disciplinary action, and take a reprimanding ride,” the driver said, presenting the offer with a big palm.”
“What’s that? A ploy to get more money out of me?”
“No Sir, no further cost will be incurred. The reprimanding ride in itself is free.”
Scrooge squinted. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that by the end of the reprimanding ride, it will be decided if you will remain a customer of ours, or if you will be blacklisted and denied further service.”
“Nonsense. You are speaking nonsense. A company can’t do that! You’ll go broke in a year! Take me home right this instant.”
“We can’t do that yet. You need to accept the reprimanding ride, it needs to be on record.”
“Blasted- I will not subject myself to that, no.” Scrooge got out of the taxi and stood in the sidewalk once more. The driver didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned forward and turned up the volume on his radio, muffled music coming in from the car. He sat back in his driver’s seat and made himself comfortable, pressing the alarm lights on his car to make himself more visible in the dark. The orange lights just added to the whole flickering coloured lights of the street and the shop fronts.
Scrooge snarled, and went down the road to hail a taxi the old fashioned way, by raising an arm and yelling at it. Supertaxi had pretty much engulfed the whole taxi service, leaving freelance taxi drivers few and in-between. There were some though, since this was the centre of Athens, so Scrooge tried to hail one.
After a lot of running about the busy streets and a lot of wild gestures, he managed to hail a taxi. He had two more passengers inside, and the man leaned towards the passenger window to talk to Scrooge.
“Where are ya going? South? Nah, sorry, going the other way,” the driver said and moved into the traffic again.
Scrooge just stood there exacerbated. He turned back towards the Supertaxi that was waiting for him calmly, so he sneezed at it literally and went on with his search.
Standing at the road, waiting for a taxi to roll through another man came close and was doing pretty much the same. But then, the man walked infront o
f Scrooge so as to pick up a taxi first. Scrooge wasn’t going to accept that, he was here first dammit! Scrooge walked infront of the rude man, cutting back the line. The man sniffed his nose loudly, checked the old Scrooge for a second and then cut in his line again, going further down the road. Scrooge went forward, and then some more, standing on the street corner, and looked at the man with a triumphant face. There was no more pavement to rush forward to. The man raised his palm in an open-fingered gesture that was very rude indeed and left to go to another street.
A quarter of the hour later Scrooge located another taxi, and this one was empty. He wasn’t going to leave anyone before him, so he rushed to it, hailed the driver, and even before the vehicle was fully stopped he got inside and blurted out his address.
The taxi driver looked at him from his rear-view mirror. His cheeks were red and there was a whiff of alcohol on the air. “Sorry man, only going east. Going back home to my family, Christmas Eve and all. You understand.” He shrugged.
“No I don’t understand! It is demanded by law, that once a customer steps foot into the taxi you are obligated to take him to his destination!” Scrooge said a bit too loudly.
“If you happened to be going my way, sure. But you’re not, so bye bye. Get off.”
Scrooge was pretty much furious at this point. “I’m going to file a complaint about you!”
The driver shrugged. “Don’t care. I just want a ride near my place and then retire for the night.”
“So, to be clear, you are not accepting to take me to my destination, even though you know fully well that this is forbidden by law?”
The taxi driver leaned back and popped the door open for Scrooge. “Just get off mister.”
Scrooge did.
The taxi left, leaving him once more into the cold. Scrooge cursed a few times and gritted his teeth. He was too shaken up to really jot down the taxi’s license plate. “People have gone insane,” he muttered to himself. “Denying a customer proper service, rejecting money!”
MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets Page 68
