10/30/10

A brief note to aspiring football coaches around the world:  If you happen to find yourself in a tough game against an opponent that you really should be blowing out... and if you happen to be playing a freshman quarterback because your starter has suffered a severe knee injury... and if you happen to be trailing by one point with less than a minute left in the game... and if you happen to have the ball deep in your opponents' territory, perfectly centered between the hash marks... and if you happen to have a kicker who has never missed a field goal, not a single one, in his career...  Should you ever find yourself confronted with this odd set of circumstances, you should do two things.  (1) Put your ego in check for a minute and (2) kick the fucking field goal.  Or, you know, if you're a super-genius who walks on water, just have your freshman quarterback throw the ball into the endzone and feel sorry for yourself when the pass gets intercepted.  Either way.

That was fun to watch... or something.  At least there's one upside to this Saturday work arrangement of mine.  Instead of sitting around and stewing about this shit, I tend to be pretty busy driving and delivering milk.  You know, glass half full and whatnot.

I wound up being a little busier than anticipated today.  If you pay close attention, then you've probably noticed that the milk business is picking up a bit of steam.  This means that we, the drivers, are making more money.  In what I'm sure is a coincidence, the sick calls on weekends seem to be popping up again.  So my scheduled one-stop second run was replaced by a three-stopper.  Another fifty bucks on my paycheck is fine and all, but I had been planning to hang out with my niece and nephew tonight.  My new schedule carried me through almost to midnight, so we had to scrap those plans.  Work is work though.  A fella's gotta earn a living one way or another.

The driving and delivering, in and of themselves, didn't go too badly.  My first trip involved a stop in Howell and another in Swartz Creek.  I knew that there was something amiss when I left the dairy, so I made sure to tell the guys in Howell to wait before they pulled their milk into the cooler.  According to the bills, they were to get 192 cases from me.  That's around three and a half pallets.  There were five and a half pallets on the tail of the trailer, each with white tags indicating that they were going to the Howell store.  When I pulled the pallets out of the trailer and counted the cases, I found that there were 282 instead of the 192 on the order.  It only took a second to spot the fact that 90 cases of 1/2% milk were on the first two pallets that I had unloaded (54 & 36, respectively).  What are the odds that a store getting a total of 192 cases would be getting 90 cases of 1/2%?  Pretty small odds, obviously.

Subtracting those 90 cases left us with the appropriate 192, so I was pretty sure that we were on the right track.  A look at the order for my second stop showed that the Swartz Creek store did in fact have 90 cases of 1/2% coming.  Okay then.  So the dairy had been running behind on 1/2% milk production and had put those two pallets on after the rest of the trailer was already loaded.  This happens sometimes, usually with chocolate milk and almost always on Saturday, but it's no big deal.  It's my job to pay attention for odds and ends thrown on the back of the trailer.  It's their job, however, to put the right tags on each pallet.  The Swartz Creek load had black tags, not white.  Someone wasn't paying attention.  Fortunately, that someone wasn't I.

Speaking of the Swartz Creek load... oy!  17 pallets and 35,000 pounds.  That's a lot of freaking milk.  I think I've seen one or two loads that had 14 pallets.  12 or 13 pallets are common at a few of the busier stores.  17 though?  That was something new.  It probably goes without saying that I was in Swartz Creek for a while this afternoon.  That store has a narrow corridor through which the milk has to go in order to get to the dairy cooler.  Then the empty cases (13 pallets, in this case) have to come through the same corridor to get to my trailer.  This means that it's a one-at-a-time affair.  We got 'er done though.

My three evening stops were in the Toledo area.  The first involved waiting for a bread truck to leave before I could get into the loading dock.  The second involved nobody answering the door, then nobody being in the receiving area after I had walked around and into the front entrance.  (Turns out the only guy working in the back tonight was on his break at the time.  Go figure.)  The third stop involved a grocery truck pulling out of the dock just as I arrived, leaving pallets of shit piled from wall to wall in the stock room.  Each of these delays added a bit of time to my shift, but what are you gonna do?  Just part of the job, I suppose.  All in all, my shift took less than twelve hours from pre-trip inspection to post-trip inspection, so good enough.

Tomorrow brings another decent day of earnings, at least as things stand now.  I have the long Midland and Mount Pleasant run, then a two-stopper to Toledo.  I'm familiar with all of the stores involved and things should be pretty smooth, so this is probably the right time to prepare for some unfortunate event.  We'll see.

10/29/10

If I were to reflect on the last several years' experiences in my life, I think I would honestly conclude that I've become more patient with people than I once was.  Perhaps this is a natural consequence of growing older or perhaps it's a side benefit of having spent a few years more or less isolated from society.  Whatever the explanation behind this evolution may be though, I still have my limits.  When one of these limits is reached, I can sometimes be a little hasty in declaring that enough is enough.  Today... enough was enough.

I basically instituted a unilateral policy declaring that I will no longer answer questions about how my back is feeling or how my leg is feeling or any of that.  It's the same damned answer every day - I have no idea.  So, to the dispatcher at work, the security guard at the dairy, the receiving guy at my first stop, and anyone else who bothered to ask, I simply said that I don't want to talk about it anymore.  End of discussion.  Enough is enough.  In the unlikely event that there is some material change to the status quo, I'll be more than willing to tell people.  Otherwise, screw it.  Life with numb toes and random leg symptoms isn't the worst thing in the world.  You get used to it after a while.

Today's work schedule had the potential to be a challenge, but it turned out to be pretty easy in the end.  My load had four stops, with the third stop coming at a location with no loading dock.  The only way to make this kind of run work would be to leave the empties behind at my first two stops.  Then I could deal with the no-dock third delivery and the regular fourth delivery before circling back to the first two stores and picking up their empties.  It turned out that the second store only had two pallets of empties though, so I just took them with me and worked around them to deliver the milk at my third store.  And I still had plenty of room in my trailer for an easy delivery/pickup at the last stop.  This meant that, after completing my four stops, I only had to return to the first store to pick up empties.  That particular store is right on US-23 on the way back to the dairy anyway, meaning that stopping there at the end of my shift was no great inconvenience.  Good deal.

I've been pretty worn out lately and last night's sleep schedule wasn't helpful to the cause.  I may or may not have some sort of family gathering to attend tomorrow night though, so I had to man up and get to the gym after work tonight.  Not my most impressive workout by any stretch of the imagination, given the fatigue and general malaise that I was fighting.  I did manage to sling around enough weight to make it worth my while though.

Two loads tomorrow - a two-stopper and a one-stopper.  Assuming that I actually manage to sleep for a few solid hours tonight, this could be setting up to be the easiest $230 shift that I've had thus far.  I'll have to sneak a peek at my FloTV here and there to see how pathetic my Irish are, but I've concluded that they're hardly worth watching anyway.  Might as well make a few bucks.

10/28/10

You know what we don't do here at Tales from the Road?  We don't blow off the readers.  This blogging thing may require a little more work than people realize, but screw it.  Day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year, a handful of you degenerates have had something to say.  Your feedback is what makes it all worthwhile.

So in your honor, I say the following: I'm fucking tired, man.  My ass hurts.  I haven't slept worth a damn in three days.  I just drove 500 miles on my day off, had a steak dinner with an old friend, and drank a few weird drinks that claimed (accurately, as nearly as I can tell) to contain 8% alcohol.  I'm fucking tired.

We'll resume this chat tomorrow.

10/27/10

Imagine my surprise this morning when I became aware that my log book still has a Line 2. I've been sent to Tennessee with this sleeper cab before and still got my hotel money. Apparently now we're sleeping in the truck whenever a sleeper cab is available.

In a certain sense, it's just as well to hop in the bunk and go to bed for the night. It's a bit of a hassle to get a motel room for a quick 10 hour break anyway.

In another sense, it sucks balls. Since I'm not staying at a motel, I can't park at a motel. I had forgotten just how much I love looking for a parking space at a truck stop late at night.

Luckily for me, at the very least, I keep a pillow in my car for my pre-workout naps. Otherwise I may have been really annoyed.

The drive down was a pain in the ass, as could be expected with a 10am departure. Early rush hour in Cincinnati, late rush hour in Louisville, and the daily accidents were still being cleaned up in Nashville. (Those people really should take driving classes or something.)

After my drop/hook in Murfreesboro, the rest of the drive... was a pain in the ass. Go figure. There was construction on I-24 and those same awesome Nashville drivers haven't caught on to the whole 'merging' phenomenon. Good times. Good times.

Of course, by the time I got into Kentucky, the truck stops were full. After making passes through the Flying J, Petro, and Pilot, I hadn't found a spot. Since I do still get my meals reimbursed, I parked in the fuel island and headed in to get some dinner at Wendy's before trying the Shell station on the other side of the freeway. When I came back out to my truck, I spotted a parking space. How 'bout that.

Now we get to see if I can get some sleep amidst the idling trucks. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in...