this is the single most humiliating day of my adult life. I am writing this while sitting in my car at a petrol station toilet, waiting for my spare shorts to dry after washing them under the sink.
I am so sick and tired of hearing my friends, family, and random relatives during Chinese New Year tell me how lucky I am. “Wah, you private hire driver very good life leh! Want to work then work, don’t want to work can go home. Got freedom. Drive around air-con only, easily make $5K to $6K a month!”
Easy money your head la. You all want to talk about freedom? Today, my “freedom” resulted in me losing control of my bladder along the CTE during peak hour traffic.
Let me paint the picture for you. I started driving at 6:00 AM to catch the morning surge. By 8:30 AM, I was already on my fifth back-to-back trip. I felt a slight urge to pee when I picked up a passenger from Punggol heading to Shenton Way. No big deal right? Just a standard 25-minute drive. I figure I can drop them off, find a nearby mall, and settle my business.
Then, disaster struck. Big accident on the CTE before the PIE exit.
Suddenly, a 25-minute smooth drive turned into a complete standstill. Red taillights all the way to the horizon. The GPS arrival time kept creeping up: +10 mins, +20 mins, +35 mins. Meanwhile, my bladder was screaming. I am talking about the kind of sweat-breaking, stomach-cramping agony where every single bump on the road feels like a knife turning in your gut.
I couldn’t just stop the car on the middle lane of a packed expressway, leave my passenger inside, and run to the bushes! The passenger was busy typing on his laptop, completely oblivious to the fact that his driver was currently fighting for his life and dignity.
I tried to tahan. I squeezed my steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I turned off the radio to focus all my mental energy on sphincter control. I prayed to every god in existence. But when you are stuck in Singapore peak-hour traffic, there is no escape. After 45 minutes of pure torture, we hit a sudden brake. My body just gave up.
A bit leaked out. Then a bit more. Before I knew it, my entire seat area was wet.
The absolute shame of sitting there in my own warm pee, pretending everything was completely normal while asking the passenger, “Bro, air-con too cold or not?” just to cover up my shivering. When I finally dropped him off, I had to wait until he walked far away before I could jump out, grab a plastic bag from my boot to sit on, and drive straight to the nearest petrol station.
People always look at the gross earnings of PHV drivers, but nobody talks about the hidden health costs. The chronic back pain from sitting 12 hours a day, the slipped discs, the stomach ulcers from skipping meals to chase incentives, and the urinary tract infections (UTI) from constantly holding your pee because there is simply nowhere to park. Your health is real, and once it breaks, no amount of Grab or Gojek incentives can buy it back.
This job is not a walk in the park. It is a grueling, exhausting grind that eats away at your body. Next time you grab a ride, please be nice to your driver. We are literally destroying our kidneys and risking our dignity just to send you to your destination on time.
Going to buy a giant bottle of green tea and find a proper coin-operated car wash.