Keep Note Of Taxis Like This

(I live in Glasgow and have gotten a taxi to Queen Street Station. The driver has been perfectly calm and chatting with me up until now. When we get to the station, I see the cost is £17.60. I instinctively grab the first note in my wallet, believing only one to be in there, and hand it over.)

Driver: *furious* “This is a fiver!”

Me: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know I had that in there.”

(I take it back and pull out the £20 note. In this time, however, the driver turns off the engine, locks the doors, and starts using his phone.)

Me: “Umm, here.”

Driver: “SIT DOWN! YOU AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!”

(I sit down, confused and worried, as he dials the police, reporting my blunder as attempted theft. After he hangs up he spends the next couple of minutes mumbling at how the English, like me, can’t be trusted. When the police arrive, he gets out and starts ranting at them. I can only see the face of one officer, who doesn’t look too impressed. She comes over and talks to me through the window.)

Officer: “Now, I’m not going to get formal with you. You look respectable enough, and [Driver] phones us at least once week thinking someone is stealing from him. Can you pay?”

(I lift up the £20 and she looks at the meter before rolling her eyes.)

Officer: “So, what happened?”

Me: “I had another note in my wallet and took that out, instead.”

(She rolls her eyes again and goes back to the driver. The driver then comes back and takes my money. He hands me my change.)

Me: “You’ve short-changed me.”

Driver: *pretending to be calm* “No, I haven’t!”

Me: “You’ve given me 40p; I should have £2.40.”

(Both officers looked in the car at the meter, and the driver begrudgingly gave me the extra £2 before speeding off. The officers shrugged and left. I just made it to my train. The irony of it all was, he was also English.)