I work as a taxi driver. I come on order to one of the villages near the city and shook "expectation". A couple of minutes later, the guy comes out in the feeding room, and then the girl with the baby is also fine. Following, a woman of an uncertain age rolls out the wheelchair and asks me to put it in the trunk. No question, the wheelchair was folded and thrown into the trunk. They touched. I ask the address - the guy says he will show me how to get there (I hate this shit, taxi drivers will understand me). Well, we come to one of the not prosperous districts of the city - a completely private sector, house by house, Gypsies live with all the outcomes. We stopped near one of the houses, and the guys told me they would go in now, and in 10 minutes they would go out, and we would go on. “And let the wheel be a pledge,” they said. Okay, I’m not asking, I’m waiting, the taxi meter counts minutes. When the hour passed, I began to worry. In another 40 minutes, the body fell out of the house, or more precisely, a woman aged 40-60. On my question about my clients, she grabbed an acky horse, and then said the following: they came to drink and eat on a hole, they have no money or a penny, and in general, they are already in a drunken coma. Then she apologized, said that things were waiting for her (I joke), and left me alone with this information. I was just starting my business in this field, and I have not come up with anything smarter than selling a wheelchair (I agree with the House's mind). I fly to the dispatcher's office and tell the situation, then I offer the girls to buy a wheelchair at the price of the trip (the town is small, people's salaries are small - at the time they could buy a wheelchair without problems). The senior controller, a tough woman who worked in a taxi for more than five years, says to me: "Idiot, go to the trick, and give this wheelchair to someone under a description and write a statement, otherwise you will be sad. I did not have to argue with the elderly since childhood - I went to the department. It was evening, and there was nothing special in the department. There was an officer sitting in the checkpoint and another one came down to me. I generally described the situation, also showed the check (by the way, the taxi meter was working all this time - I turned it off only when I came to the department), and we went to the office to write all kinds of papers, before this delivered the wheelchair and put it in the shelter. Minutes after 20 in the office where we were drawing up the papers, a call came out and "my mint" removed the phone. In a minute, he begins to roast. At my silent question in his eyes he says, "You're lucky shit." In short, this couple, which I brought on the patte, a little distracted, understood that the child was oret, and where the child would put it. They remembered me and invented a simple story, namely: a taxi driver took us, then stopped in the middle of the road, drove us out with a child from the car, and squeezed with a wheelchair in the trunk. And with this story started in the department (city small-division one). They stood next to the checkpoint when we came down and, seeing me, probably all understood, began to mock something unclear. The story ended well – they borrowed somewhere the amount they owe me on the check, took the wheelchair and dropped it at sunset. Here is. The moral is that listening to the elderly is sometimes useful. But it is not certain.