At an airport taxi stand, I expected the usual—an old cab, a tired driver, a silent ride. Instead, I met Wasu, and the experience changed how I thought about service, choices, and even life itself.
The first thing I noticed was his car. It gleamed as though it had just rolled off the showroom floor. Then came Wasu himself—sharp in a white shirt, pressed black slacks, and a neatly tied black tie. Before I could even reach for the handle, he was there, opening the back door for me.
“Welcome,” he said warmly. “I’m Wasu, your driver. While I load your bags, please read my mission statement.”
Surprised, I looked down at the laminated card he handed me.
“Wasu’s Mission Statement: To get my customers to their destination in the quickest, safest, and cheapest way possible in a friendly environment.”
The words stunned me—not because of their simplicity, but because I could already see he lived them. His cab was spotless, inside and out. And as I sat back, the surprises kept coming.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked. “I have a thermos of regular and one of decaf.”
I laughed and said I’d prefer a soft drink. Without missing a beat, he opened a small cooler. “No problem. I have Coke, Diet Coke, orange juice, water, or lassi.”
A lassi, of all things, in a cab!
Next, he offered me magazines—Reader’s Digest, Good Housekeeping, Travel + Leisure, even a Bible. Then came another laminated card listing the radio stations he received, organized by genre. He checked the temperature, asked if I wanted quiet or conversation, and even suggested the quickest route based on traffic.
It wasn’t just service. It was hospitality.
Finally, curiosity got the better of me. “Wasu,” I asked, “have you always treated customers like this?”
He smiled in the rearview mirror. “No. For the first five years, I was like every other cabbie—complaining, miserable, waiting for things to change. Then I heard something that changed me: the power of choice. You can be a duck or an eagle. Ducks quack and complain. Eagles soar above the crowd. I decided I didn’t want to quack anymore.”
So, step by step, he transformed. He cleaned his cab, polished his manners, and added small touches of kindness. The results spoke for themselves. “My first year as an eagle, I doubled my income. This year, I’ll probably quadruple it. My customers call me directly now, just to book with me. And best of all, I love what I do.”
As I sat back, sipping a lassi in the cleanest cab I’d ever seen, I realized Wasu’s message wasn’t just about driving. It was about life.
We can spend our days quacking like ducks—complaining, unhappy, stuck in the same patterns. Or we can choose to be eagles, soaring higher, rising above, and creating something extraordinary from the ordinary.
Wasu had made his choice. And in that shining cab, he taught me to consider mine.
