All that hate in your heart
When we got the info for this load that we’re on now, it was dispatched at 66.33 miles per hour. I don’t know if we’ve ever mentioned it our not, but our truck only goes 65 mph — that’s top speed. Yesterday, when we received the load info, I sent a message to our weekend dispatcher (aka trained monkey in diaper) pointing out that we couldn’t possibly make delivery on-time. He shot back, “You’ve got until the 21st to deliver.” Sigh. I had to shoot another message explaining the math:
Load picks up at 08:00 tomorrow morning and it’s a live load so it probably won’t be ready to roll until 10:00. It’s 1,900 miles from Mississippi to delivery in California and we have two fuel stops which will probably take about an hour . You all have given us 30 hours for trip. Even if we ignore the fuel stops that’s 1,900 miles divided by 30 hours which equals a dispatch speed of 66 mph which we can’t do as our truck’s top speed is — as I’m sure you know — 65 mph. We will need a new appointment time.
When faced with that rather reasonable explanation, he simply messaged back, “Oh, 10/4. I’ll let someone in customer service know.” But did we have any faith whatsoever that he would actually let anyone in customer service – or elsewhere for that matter – know that we wouldn’t be able to deliver on-time? No we did not. We simply wanted it noted in the record (on our drivertech) that we had informed them when we first got the load that the delivery appointment was impossible. Mission accomplished. We went back to playing with the blog header.
Skip forward to this morning. We arrived at the shipper to pickup our load about 45 minutes before our appointment. First you had to stop at the security gate and check in with the guard then walk over to the shipping office to find out where to go from there. I walked into the shipping office and stood around waiting to take my turn with the old boy at the desk. This is how it all went down after that:
Old shipping guy #1: And what can I do for you this fine morning, young lady?
Hedon: I’m here to pick up a load for TWMNBN for an 08:00 appointment.
Old shipping guy #1: An eight o’clock appointment, you say.
Hedon: Yes Sir, at least that’s what they told me.
Old shipping guy #1: Well let’s see what we’ve got here. (shuffling through papers and mumbling ‘eight o’clock’ under his breath)
Old shipping guy #2: Do you know where the load is going?
Hedon: Supposed to be headed to DuPont in ‘JoeBlowVille’ California.
Old shipping guy #1 (finally pulling one set of bills aside): Did they give you a pick-up number?
Old shipping guy #1: Hmm… no… give it to me again.
Old shipping guy #1: Nope, that’s not a good pick-up number.
Hedon (sighing): Ok, well I’ll have to go ask them to double check it and come back when I’ve got another one.
Suddenly both old shipping guys burst into storms of laughter. They sat at their little desks holding their sides and laughing until tears were rolling down their cheeks. Finally old shipping guy #1 managed to pull himself together enough to speak.
Old shipping guy #1: Nah… we were just messing with you, Driver. Your pick-up number is good.
Hedon (with a very confused look on face and in a doubtful tone of voice): Oh… uh… ok.
Old shipping guy #1: Usually when we say their pick-up numbers aren’t any good TWMNBN drivers start cussing their company and throwing a big hissy fit.
Old shipping guy #2: Or crying. Remember that big old boy a couple of weeks ago who busted out crying like a little girl?
Old shipping guy #1: Yeah, but I like it better when they start cussing and jumping up and down and yelling about how much they hate TWMNBN.
Old shipping guy #2: And what idiots TWMNBN are.
Old shipping guy #1: And how they’d like to drive to ‘HellOnEarthUSA’ to TWMNBN headquarters and drive their truck over ‘SpawnOfSatan’ personally.
Old shipping guy #2: That’s just too fun when they get all worked up like that.
Old shipping guy #1 (pushing my bills across the desk for me to sign): Yeah… (sigh) good stuff. Anyway, you must be one of the only TWMNBN drivers to come in here who don’t hate them yet. Good for you, honey. All that hate in your heart will make you old and wrinkled.
Hedon (pushing signed bills back to him): Oh… I try not to hate anybody.
Old shipping guy #1: That’s real good, honey. You just keep looking on the bright side of life. You need to go on out to dock 12 and they’ll get you all loaded up.
Hedon (extra-bright smile): I’ll do that. Thanks.
After we were loaded, I shot a message to Uriah letting him know we were loaded and once again pointing out that we could not deliver on-time and would need a new delivery appointment.
After about 45 minutes, he messaged back, “Why?”
So what did we learn today? Well first we learned that there seems to be quite a few drivers out here who hate TWMNBN if the hissy fits and stomping and cussing are any indication of the current state of affairs. Second, we learned that hate in your heart gives you wrinkles. Third, if you’re a big old boy who’s clearly having a bad day don’t burst into tears when your pick-up number isn’t good cause it makes you stand out and not in a good way. Fourth, we certainly learned to look real closely at the shipper’s eyes when they tell you your pick-up number is no good — which happens about once a week — cause they may just be jerking you around. Finally we learned that when necessary I am way better at hiding my true feelings than I ever thought.
I’m thinking maybe I should consider an acting career if this trucking thing doesn’t work out.