The Freemasons and technology are basically mutually exclusive. Now that the banks are all but banning cheques, dragging the order into the realms of internet banking has been difficult. The lodge I'm in finally got it a few years ago - others are battling the system. We'll get there.
Today's meeting started late. Our Grand Poobah, Dorothy. (Masonic term thanks to the Flintstones) and her sister Rosemary, aged 86 and 87 respectively, were let down when the taxi they ordered failed to show. They had to beg a lift from one of their grandchildren. They arrived about 45 minutes late from the Middle Southern suburbs. Both women were a little discombobulated after being let down by their lack of a ride.
After the meeting, I asked Dorothy how they were getting home.
"We'll get a taxi," the more change averse of the two told me.
"Do you really want to do that? Why don't you get an Uber?" I asked.
"I don't like Ubers," she told me.
"Why not?"
"They aren't taxis. I can't use my senior's card."
"But you might get an okay fare. Just don't book them during a surge."
"What's a surge."
I didn't have the energy to explain.
I catch both ubers and taxis, not so regularly here, but they are handy. Ubers are good for planned rides, cabs are better when coming home from town. Cabs have upped their game since the invention ride-share. I also find that ubers smell better and you've got a better chance of a chatty driver.
After a bit, I asked the other sister, Rosemary, how the two were going to get home down the Nepean Highway.
"I'm not sure, love. After being let down by the taxis, it might be good to give an uber a try."
"Would you like me to put you in an uber?"
"That might be nice."
"But how will we pay the driver?"
"I'll pay the driver. You can pay me. They're a bit more reliable than a cab at this time of day."
"Don't they take cash?"
"No, it will go through on my accounts. You can pay me."
Which they did. It was a bit more than the senior card taxi, but not too much more.
So, the uber was booked. The driver had a 4.95 rating, and a Camry. Preferred Uber Driver car.
He turned up in the allotted five minutes.
"Are you Pandora?" he asked as he pulled up.
"Yep. Takashibu?"
"Yes."
"You'll be taking these two ratbags home." Rosemary and Dorothy smiled at him.
"See ladies, a nice driver and a nice car." I stuck my head in the open window. It had that nice car tree smell."
"Oh, yes." Takashibu placed their bags in the boot and we got them settled in.
"Now don't let these women give you any rubbish. I don't want them ruining my good uber rating. Five stars if you get them home safely."
"I think we'll be right," he replied.
Looking into the back seat, I watched my two friends, both white-haired little old ladies, buckled in like children, and I pondered just how far technology and the internet have come, and how isolating it must be when you don't have access to it.
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