"Excuses are like assholes: everybody has one, and they all stink!" - Coach Peeler, Richwoods High School, circa 1978
So, I finally get my first route in the spring of 2003: a 3-day run through Indiana. First day, (and I forget the times, sorry) I'd shoot out US30 to Fort Wayne, and I had 3 or 4 deliveries there. I remember a couple of them were these frozen yogurt places that we've been doing, almost as long as I've been with the company. It's about 2 1/2 hours from Chicago to Fort Wayne, so I must have started somewhere around 4:30 or 5 am, because my first delivery was at 7. Again, I'm a little hazy on the exact details. From Fort Wayne, I'd hop on US24 and head back west head towards Lafayette/West Lafayette, where I'd be delivering on the second day. I recall I had a stop in Huntington, about a half hour west of Fort Wayne, then I'd run out of time around Peru, where I'd shut down for the night.
Second day was mainly Lafayette/West Lafayette. I had four or five of the yogurt places,
all owned by the same guy, a decent enough fellow, although I remember we had some trouble during the hot summer months. I remember him going off on me a little because the
five-gallon tubs of ice cream had softened up a little, due to the crappy job the freezer compartment on my reefer had done (I'll devote a whole chapter to refrigerated units in a later
posting). I apologized profusely, and bent over backwards to help get the stuff into his freezer
ASAP. Otherwise, nothing remarkable struck me about that area, except for the Purdue billboards all over the place. I may have driven past the university, but don't remember really even seeing it. I would then head back nothbound on I65 toward civilization, er Merrillville.
I had a delivery in the Southlake Mall over there, and the owner preferred to have his delivery on that second day (Tues. or Wed., not sure) So, I'd back the truck up into the loading docks,
and unload the yogurt and ice cream out the side door, and bring it right in through the food court. As far as mall deliveries go, it wasn't half bad; I've seen worse, trust me. If I arrived mid-afternoon ( 2, 2:30 ish), there wasn't usually much pedestrian (or truck) traffic, so it was a snap. If it was later, however, then you could run into some delays. So, I'd take off for the truckstop
right afterwards, and shut down. I remember we had these old Volvos (8-speed) with a light
or "integral" sleeper. That's where the bunk is right behind the seats, with just a half-curtain separating the two. One trip I got a truck with no a/c. OMG! You have to just lay there, windows rolled down, bugs flying all over, praying for a cool breeze. Tough to sleep in those kind of conditions. I've since had trucks where the a/c has gone out, and gone through the same thing. Not fun.
Last day was actually a night shift: get up about 10pm; after coffee, etc. I'd run over to Michigan City, then back west to Lake Station and Hobart ("Ho-bert"). The pizza stores are easy because
you kinda know what to expect: you have store keys, alarm codes (hopefully, if neccesary), and the stores, while all laid out differently, basically order all the same shit, ya know? So I'd get done about 7 or 8 the third day, then all I had to do was go fuel the truck, then back to the base,
back up to the dumpsters, and get rid of all your trash and cardboard (there is a LOT of that). Just ask the dispatcher where they want the truck and bam, you're done. It was about a 40-hour run, give or take. I know I've probably said it before, but being paid by the hour, this job is the only one I know of where being efficient actually works against you. Of course back in those days, we full-timers were guaranteed 40 hours, no matter how many you worked (that policy has been done away with). So guys could work 3 days and get their 40, and have 4 days off.
Such a deal, right? Then you could ask for OT if you wanted it, do some local straight truck work, yard work, local pickups, etc.
I did the Indiana route through the spring and summer of 2003, and into the fall. I believe in September sometime they took me off it, and I was putzing around in Iowa for a bit (my current route). The guy that was doing Iowa had screwed up, or called in sick once too many times, I don't recall, but they gave it to me eventually, and I did that up until about November.
My last recollection I'd like to share here was of an incident at a truck stop in Indiana, along 80/94 around Burns Harbor or someplace. And this must have been later, when I was going up to Michigan, because I was scaling the load, and I came in to get my ticket. There was a guy there who was extremely upset and agitated about something. He was getting into it with the cashier, and after a few moments of arguing, he stormed out of the place, hollering "Fuckin' Hoosiers!" I laughed then, and I laugh now when I think of that (usually when I see a vehicle w/Indiana plates fucking up). Now, I don't mean to suggest that all Hoosiers are bad drivers,
but there does seem to be quite a few of them out there, people who don't seem to "grasp the concept," so to speak. I always go back to that angry guy: "Fuckin' Hoosiers!"
Next: Snow Hell
More Soon,
Steve
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
F.S.A.'s
"I feel like shit..." Limp Bizkit, "Break Stuff"
F.S.A. = Food Service Asshole (that's what I am)
So, here it is, late September 2002, and I'm "back in the saddle," so to speak. I was very excited
to be going back to driving a big rig. WHOAA! Big Fella! Yeah, not so fast. When I first started with this outfit, I was hired basically as a relief driver, meaning I was "on call" 24/7. I'd fill in for guys calling off sick, on vacation, etc. Mostly I was doing these "special deliveries," where you'd
run around Chicago, up to Wisconsin, Indiana, even out to Iowa, usually in a straight truck. In fact, I remember my first really "big" run was up to the UP of Michigan ("Da Yoopers!") Oh, what fun! I had 5 deliveries on a Wednesday, I think, so I had to leave on Tuesday afternoon
about 2:30. It's like 10 hours up there, and by now it's November. I'm driving a sleeper cab
with a 36-foot "pup" trailer. Going up through Wisconsin's north woods was not a big problem:
I had mapped out my route while waiting to be loaded at the warehouse. Then you get up to Iron Mountain, and you think you're close. Ha! No, I was going to Houghton ( pronounced "Ho-
ton" not "How-ton"), which is almost right on Lake Superior.
As I traveled northward, the snow got gradually heavier - it was beautiful on the trees, etc., but not particularly fun to drive in. I must have made it to Houghton around midnight; my first delivery was at a school about 8:00 the next morning, so I drove there, found a spot and
hunkered down for the night. The next morning, I woke to the sound of plows, etc. There was
no hot coffee, which pissed me off, but what can you do? I made my first 2 deliveries no prob., but then came the trouble. I couldn't find the third place, which turned out to be a hockey rink down by the river, so like a moron, I tried to stop and call for directions. Well, I pulled into a gas station, and even with the smaller trailer, wound up hitting a concrete post, tearing up the
ladder under the side door of the trailer. So I find the joint, make the delivery, and then, more problems: couldn't get up the hill of the parking lot. I spun my drive tires, rocked the fucker as best I could, but nothing. They had to call for a front-end loader to come and pour red dirt up under my tires, so I'd have enough traction to get outta there. They use the dirt up there instead of salt 'cause it's cheaper, but man, it gets all over your vehicle. As I was leaving town, I noticed a sign that read "We have two seasons up here: Winter and Almost Winter". Oh, joy!
So, I came back down through Escanaba and Marinette, WI. If you look off to the east, on a clear day, you can see the peninsula of Door County, WI, but damn, was I glad to be outta there. I made it back to the south 'burbs with that ladder hanging by a thread. I'd return to the UP later in my career, but thankfully in summer (Almost Winter).
I would go out with senior drivers, as their "helper," and drive a little bit too. One guy told me, "Try to get a route ASAP, 'cause you'll get more hours, and you'll know where you're going every week." He was sooo right, but it took me about 6 months before I got a route, so I was
doing the relief thing. Not knowing where you're gonna go was the hard part for me: I absolutely HATE surprises! Anyway, I was gaining valuable experience - learning the various products, what they were, how to handle them, etc., the different vehicles, kind of understanding the fucked-up way the warehouse works - all these things helped in becoming the seasoned "pro"
(F.S.A.) that I am today. Brrrrrrtttttt!!!! (toots own horn)
Next: Hoosier Daddy?
More Soon,
Steve
F.S.A. = Food Service Asshole (that's what I am)
So, here it is, late September 2002, and I'm "back in the saddle," so to speak. I was very excited
to be going back to driving a big rig. WHOAA! Big Fella! Yeah, not so fast. When I first started with this outfit, I was hired basically as a relief driver, meaning I was "on call" 24/7. I'd fill in for guys calling off sick, on vacation, etc. Mostly I was doing these "special deliveries," where you'd
run around Chicago, up to Wisconsin, Indiana, even out to Iowa, usually in a straight truck. In fact, I remember my first really "big" run was up to the UP of Michigan ("Da Yoopers!") Oh, what fun! I had 5 deliveries on a Wednesday, I think, so I had to leave on Tuesday afternoon
about 2:30. It's like 10 hours up there, and by now it's November. I'm driving a sleeper cab
with a 36-foot "pup" trailer. Going up through Wisconsin's north woods was not a big problem:
I had mapped out my route while waiting to be loaded at the warehouse. Then you get up to Iron Mountain, and you think you're close. Ha! No, I was going to Houghton ( pronounced "Ho-
ton" not "How-ton"), which is almost right on Lake Superior.
As I traveled northward, the snow got gradually heavier - it was beautiful on the trees, etc., but not particularly fun to drive in. I must have made it to Houghton around midnight; my first delivery was at a school about 8:00 the next morning, so I drove there, found a spot and
hunkered down for the night. The next morning, I woke to the sound of plows, etc. There was
no hot coffee, which pissed me off, but what can you do? I made my first 2 deliveries no prob., but then came the trouble. I couldn't find the third place, which turned out to be a hockey rink down by the river, so like a moron, I tried to stop and call for directions. Well, I pulled into a gas station, and even with the smaller trailer, wound up hitting a concrete post, tearing up the
ladder under the side door of the trailer. So I find the joint, make the delivery, and then, more problems: couldn't get up the hill of the parking lot. I spun my drive tires, rocked the fucker as best I could, but nothing. They had to call for a front-end loader to come and pour red dirt up under my tires, so I'd have enough traction to get outta there. They use the dirt up there instead of salt 'cause it's cheaper, but man, it gets all over your vehicle. As I was leaving town, I noticed a sign that read "We have two seasons up here: Winter and Almost Winter". Oh, joy!
So, I came back down through Escanaba and Marinette, WI. If you look off to the east, on a clear day, you can see the peninsula of Door County, WI, but damn, was I glad to be outta there. I made it back to the south 'burbs with that ladder hanging by a thread. I'd return to the UP later in my career, but thankfully in summer (Almost Winter).
I would go out with senior drivers, as their "helper," and drive a little bit too. One guy told me, "Try to get a route ASAP, 'cause you'll get more hours, and you'll know where you're going every week." He was sooo right, but it took me about 6 months before I got a route, so I was
doing the relief thing. Not knowing where you're gonna go was the hard part for me: I absolutely HATE surprises! Anyway, I was gaining valuable experience - learning the various products, what they were, how to handle them, etc., the different vehicles, kind of understanding the fucked-up way the warehouse works - all these things helped in becoming the seasoned "pro"
(F.S.A.) that I am today. Brrrrrrtttttt!!!! (toots own horn)
Next: Hoosier Daddy?
More Soon,
Steve
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Transitions
First post of 2007! Woohooo!
Yeah, so the wife put the ol' kaibosh on me going back over the road. I wasn't thrilled about the idea, either. I mean, my family's needs obviously came first: the wife was at the point where
she wasn't able to work any more (verrry long story - not in this context, please), so me being away was really not an option. I didn't even call them to tell them I wasn't coming back (I felt kind of guilty about that, but oh well). I'm sure Manny would have been pissed.
So, what to do? Well, it meant having to find work locally, here in Chi-town. That in itself wasn't an easy proposition; it meant updating the ol' resume first. Then it was out pounding the pavement: looking through the classifieds, going on interviews, taking numerous drug tests and road tests (my fav!), dealing with know-it-all managers, blah, blah, blah. Some of my driving school buddies had locked on with a local beverage distributing company (big name), so I filled out an app., never got a call. Without much experience, I was pretty much dead in the water.
So, after weeks of this kind of activity, with no real results, I fortunately found this building supply distributor looking for a driver/warehouse worker. I took the job: I'd been out of work for almost a month, and the checks from the OTR company had stopped coming, ya know? So I went to work for these guys; most of the work was OK: the contractors would come up with their receipts, we'd pull the material (roofing shingles, siding, gutters, etc.) and help load it into their pickup. Just learning the different materials was the toughest part. As for the delivering, the trucks they had were all small (Mitsubishi, if I remember correctly) automatic transmission
straight trucks that were easy to drive. There were a couple of cube vans, and a "stake" truck.
We'd go bring the materials out to the job sites, usually new contruction of single-family homes or townhomes. Sometimes we'd have to go pick up supplies at a warehouse somewhere, or deliver or pick up materials from one of their other locations. It was pretty easy work. You'd have the usual frustrations of traffic, weather, etc. Some of the places they sent us to were way up in the north or west 'burbs, or out in Indiana, but at least the trucks were air-conditioned
(this is June '02 now) and had radios. I remember having a couple of fender-bender type accidents, at least one of which I drove away from, 'cause no one was around.
Then they decided to make me the roofing delivery "specialist" (ha!). The one truck with a manual transmission was a GMC "laddervator," basically a flatbed, 20-25ft or so, with a conveyor boom. We'd load the shingles ("squares") onto the flatbed, strap 'em down tight, then I'd take off in this 6-speed dinosaur to wherever they were doing the roofing job. Most buliding contractors are assholes to begin with, but roofers are a different breed altogether. I think you have to be a little insane to climb around 20 or more feet in the air in 90-degree heat from sunup to sundown. Anyway, I'd pull or back the truck up, swing the boom around to the roof, then start the conveyor when they were ready for me. I'd put the bundles of shingles on the conveyor belt, which had little nubs to hold the shigles in place, then off they'd go. You had to be careful not to load them on too quickly, else you'd piss off the guys taking 'em off up on the roof.
Most of the jobs were re-roofs, so they were single-family homes, which didn't require a whole lot of shingles.
There were a couple of incidents that made me "see the writing on the wall," and realize my time at this outfit was short. I don't remember the sequence, but one time I delivered to a house, and backed the truck up into the driveway just a little too far. I hit the gutter on the garage, denting it a cunt-hair. The contractor went fucking ballistic on me, calling me every name in the book, saying he told me to stop, and get it right or he'd kick my ass. I apologized, but later found out this guy was an ex-Marine or something, and had a really short fuse (ya think?). I tried not to let it bother me - I mean, the damage could have been fixed with one swipe of a paint brush, for Chrissakes - but it did, for a while. The other job that sticks out in my mind was an apartment building these guys were re-roofing. There were a shitload of shingles,
it was 90-plus that day, and it was mid-afternoon, all of which had me gasping for breath, getting light-headed, and nearly fainting. I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, get a drink, etc. Of course, the guys in the office, the sales guys that work with the contractors, always
found out about what happened, even before I returned to the base. How? They were all on the same Nextel network, of course. That "bleeep" sound has annoyed me ever since.
So, I realized I'd have to find something else. Again, update the resume, urine and driving test, all over again. I even tried again at___Cola, with the same results. However, right across the street was this foodservice distributor, and they were looking, so I figured "what the heck?"
They were all very nice; I remember my road test wasn't one of my crowning glories, but they said they'd let me know. After not hearing for a week or so, I called them one day on my lunch break . "Yeah, sorry Steve, you just don't have enough experience..." I'd heard that one before.
The manager there was very nice about it, and said he'd call me if someone else quit, or if anything changed. This was in August. Sure enough, a month later, right around my birthday, he called. "When can you start?" Being a professional, and not wanting to screw anyone (whether they deserved it or not) I told him "Let me give 2 weeks notice, and I'm all yours."
And that's how it went down. I told the building supply people I was going to drive container
trailers (another big, big industry here in Chicago) so they couldn't track down my new employer. Paranoid? Prolly, but hey, whaddya want.
Next: Food Service
More Soon,
Steve
Yeah, so the wife put the ol' kaibosh on me going back over the road. I wasn't thrilled about the idea, either. I mean, my family's needs obviously came first: the wife was at the point where
she wasn't able to work any more (verrry long story - not in this context, please), so me being away was really not an option. I didn't even call them to tell them I wasn't coming back (I felt kind of guilty about that, but oh well). I'm sure Manny would have been pissed.
So, what to do? Well, it meant having to find work locally, here in Chi-town. That in itself wasn't an easy proposition; it meant updating the ol' resume first. Then it was out pounding the pavement: looking through the classifieds, going on interviews, taking numerous drug tests and road tests (my fav!), dealing with know-it-all managers, blah, blah, blah. Some of my driving school buddies had locked on with a local beverage distributing company (big name), so I filled out an app., never got a call. Without much experience, I was pretty much dead in the water.
So, after weeks of this kind of activity, with no real results, I fortunately found this building supply distributor looking for a driver/warehouse worker. I took the job: I'd been out of work for almost a month, and the checks from the OTR company had stopped coming, ya know? So I went to work for these guys; most of the work was OK: the contractors would come up with their receipts, we'd pull the material (roofing shingles, siding, gutters, etc.) and help load it into their pickup. Just learning the different materials was the toughest part. As for the delivering, the trucks they had were all small (Mitsubishi, if I remember correctly) automatic transmission
straight trucks that were easy to drive. There were a couple of cube vans, and a "stake" truck.
We'd go bring the materials out to the job sites, usually new contruction of single-family homes or townhomes. Sometimes we'd have to go pick up supplies at a warehouse somewhere, or deliver or pick up materials from one of their other locations. It was pretty easy work. You'd have the usual frustrations of traffic, weather, etc. Some of the places they sent us to were way up in the north or west 'burbs, or out in Indiana, but at least the trucks were air-conditioned
(this is June '02 now) and had radios. I remember having a couple of fender-bender type accidents, at least one of which I drove away from, 'cause no one was around.
Then they decided to make me the roofing delivery "specialist" (ha!). The one truck with a manual transmission was a GMC "laddervator," basically a flatbed, 20-25ft or so, with a conveyor boom. We'd load the shingles ("squares") onto the flatbed, strap 'em down tight, then I'd take off in this 6-speed dinosaur to wherever they were doing the roofing job. Most buliding contractors are assholes to begin with, but roofers are a different breed altogether. I think you have to be a little insane to climb around 20 or more feet in the air in 90-degree heat from sunup to sundown. Anyway, I'd pull or back the truck up, swing the boom around to the roof, then start the conveyor when they were ready for me. I'd put the bundles of shingles on the conveyor belt, which had little nubs to hold the shigles in place, then off they'd go. You had to be careful not to load them on too quickly, else you'd piss off the guys taking 'em off up on the roof.
Most of the jobs were re-roofs, so they were single-family homes, which didn't require a whole lot of shingles.
There were a couple of incidents that made me "see the writing on the wall," and realize my time at this outfit was short. I don't remember the sequence, but one time I delivered to a house, and backed the truck up into the driveway just a little too far. I hit the gutter on the garage, denting it a cunt-hair. The contractor went fucking ballistic on me, calling me every name in the book, saying he told me to stop, and get it right or he'd kick my ass. I apologized, but later found out this guy was an ex-Marine or something, and had a really short fuse (ya think?). I tried not to let it bother me - I mean, the damage could have been fixed with one swipe of a paint brush, for Chrissakes - but it did, for a while. The other job that sticks out in my mind was an apartment building these guys were re-roofing. There were a shitload of shingles,
it was 90-plus that day, and it was mid-afternoon, all of which had me gasping for breath, getting light-headed, and nearly fainting. I had to stop a few times to catch my breath, get a drink, etc. Of course, the guys in the office, the sales guys that work with the contractors, always
found out about what happened, even before I returned to the base. How? They were all on the same Nextel network, of course. That "bleeep" sound has annoyed me ever since.
So, I realized I'd have to find something else. Again, update the resume, urine and driving test, all over again. I even tried again at___Cola, with the same results. However, right across the street was this foodservice distributor, and they were looking, so I figured "what the heck?"
They were all very nice; I remember my road test wasn't one of my crowning glories, but they said they'd let me know. After not hearing for a week or so, I called them one day on my lunch break . "Yeah, sorry Steve, you just don't have enough experience..." I'd heard that one before.
The manager there was very nice about it, and said he'd call me if someone else quit, or if anything changed. This was in August. Sure enough, a month later, right around my birthday, he called. "When can you start?" Being a professional, and not wanting to screw anyone (whether they deserved it or not) I told him "Let me give 2 weeks notice, and I'm all yours."
And that's how it went down. I told the building supply people I was going to drive container
trailers (another big, big industry here in Chicago) so they couldn't track down my new employer. Paranoid? Prolly, but hey, whaddya want.
Next: Food Service
More Soon,
Steve
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