I began taxiing again last night.
I am reminded of a bad joke, about a man who dies and goes to hell, where he is given three choices of how to spend eternity. In room one, it's the classic version, the evil-doers being engulfed by fire and brimstone. In room two, people are being devoured by wild beasts. In room three, people are standing around in waist-deep shit, drinking coffee. The man chooses option three. He wanders over to a big coffee urn, gets himself a cup of coffee, takes a sip and is feeling pretty good about his decision. And then there is an announcement over a loudspeaker: "Attention! The coffee break is over! Back on your heads!" 
In reality, I did four jobs.
The first one was a normal person who sat in the back, behind the sneeze guard and wore a mask.
The second had obviously just put out a cigarette and pulled a polo neck up over his face.
The third was two east Finglas guys who, one may have worn a mask, one definitely didn't. (although both sat in the back behind the screen with the windows cracked open, surprising because they were both sniffling)
The last fare was normal, sitting in the back, masked and cracked window.
75% compliance wasn't too bad I guess.
