Firstly, thank you for inviting me to become a fun ambassador to the Philippines.
After receiving your invitation through your advertising agency, BBDO Guerrero, I can’t tell you how many times I practiced signing that title on a piece of paper—I was like a blushing bride writing down her married name over and over again just to help it sink in.
But even though I have no idea what it means, or if it will allow me a wang wang, exempt me from coding and toll fees, or grant me immunity from brawling in airports, I just want you to know that I’m extremely flattered. But as awesome as it sounds, and incredible a conversation starter as it is—“Well hello there, ladies, I’m James, Official Fun Ambassador to the Philippines, let me show you around.”—before I formally accept, sir, may I ask for a few things to be addressed first?
Aside from our airports—which is the first and last impression any tourist will have of a country—and seeing this is a motoring-centered column, may I humbly ask you to use your position as the country’s most visible host to all of our foreign guests, to kindly do something about the second impression? I’m referring to the wretched state of our taxis—or taxi drivers, to be more specific.
You see, sir, even though we’ve never met, I’m a big fan of yours. I like what you’ve done for the Department of Tourism and I’m terribly honored that you chose my photographs to be a part of your global campaign; and while I’m pretty sure that this doesn’t fall directly under your area of responsibility, the reason I’m addressing this letter to you is because I thoroughly believe that you are the best hope we have for change in this issue, as well as other pressing problems we face while navigating our way around our beautiful country. But let’s tackle things one at a time.
You see, sir, I have tried banging down the doors of traditional politicians with my pen for years now, but none, it seems, have had the political will or vested interest to get things done quite the same as you do.
Forgive me for being so blunt, but I know I’ve got a shot here because aside from noticing the urgency and energy you have given to your campaigns, I’m optimistic because I know that this helps you as much as it does us. And if there’s anything I’ve learned over the years when asking for something, it is to appeal to a person’s self interest—not their pity or sense of obligation. And please, don’t read into that; I mean that in a nice way.
You are a salesman. An advertising man. And a very gifted one at that. But talented as you are, and as wonderful as the experiences that you are peddling across these 7,107 islands may be, you’re not going to sell much if you have random thugs standing in the doorways of these places frightening your customers away. Again, I’m referring to the taxi drivers we rely upon getting these consumers around.
Over the last seven weeks, while my wife and kids have been spending summer in Australia, I have had to catch a cab to the airport every time I travel; this has been quite an eye-opener for me because I had almost forgotten how it felt, which is precisely why I’m writing to you now.
I do not expect that you, or any influential or visible member of government would relate to what I’m about to tell you quite simply because you are insulated from the experience. And I’m not judging you for that. I was exactly the same seven weeks ago. But ever since having a taste of having to rely on taxis to get me to the airport or to pick up a test-drive unit, I can tell you that we have a serious problem here.
And before you think that this is an isolated case, may I tell you that the experience has been duplicated in varying shades of abrasiveness every single time I have taken an airport cab. Every. Single. time.
Even more uncomfortable than the aggression on the roads are the sob stories that some of them share while you’re held prisoner in their back seat, where you’re forced to listen to the hardships of life in the Philippines only for them to hit you up for a whopping tip in the end. I now carry a note for future passengers that I stick on the back of the driver’s headrest saying, fasten your seatbelts, folks, you’re going on a guilt trip.
And its not restricted to just airport cabs, of course. While researching for this article, I posted a question on my Facebook page, asking if anyone has had similar experiences. Sir, have you ever seen a noontime show when a contestant turns to the audience to get help answering the winning question? This was the digital equivalent.
Jeff, a foreigner married to a Filipina who owns a go kart track in Park Square, shared his wife’s horror story where the cabbie refused to turn the meter on for the trip. Nervous about getting involved in an ugly confrontation at her destination, she kept pleading with him to turn it on. He refused, and when they hit a stalemate, he threw her out of his cab in the middle of EDSA at 7pm. She was alone, and heavily pregnant at the time.
Arnel Doria, a road safety advocate, was hustled into paying the cab’s return Skyway toll because “it was traffic,” while another respondent, Joe, confessed to slapping a cabbie twice in the face over the driver’s refusal to give him change. You see what I’m getting at, sir? It’s ugly out there.
Now they will always use traffic as an excuse for either not taking you or extorting you for more. And while I understand their frustration, aside from the fact that we’re caught in the same traffic as they are, and worse, asked to pay extra for the privilege, isn’t that a bit like a swimming instructor complaining about getting wet? It’s ridiculous.
But I have a suggestion.
Asides from convincing the LTFRB to start getting serious about revoking franchises of those not playing ball, why not start your own chain of D.O.T. fun cabs? Seriously. You could paint them up in bright happy colors with those sandwich board signs on the roofs picturing another exotic local destination and splash something like: “Hailing. More fun in the Philippines” or words to that effect. Charge a premium, but give premium, reliable service; hire educated, well-spoken drivers with good local knowledge, pay them well, and have a guaranteed “never refuse a fare policy.”
Have these open to everyone, not just tourists, and start taking control over the final, and perhaps the most important portion of your exceptional campaign—point of contact.
A cab driver is one of the most valuable assets in your campaign to communicate the beauty of our country. Aside from the transportation they provide, they have the unique power to shape a traveler’s perception of a place through their words, their manners and their character. Universally, they are the most accurate reflection of life in a country, so let’s be a little choosier about whom we put in front of our mirrors.
Unlike our cabs, we never turn anyone down. If you have any thoughts on this article or have suggestions for others, please email james@deakin.ph.