Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Dat's Dat

Well. I'm heading east on I-4. It looks like my week is coming to an unexpected end.

Epes finally dispatched me on a load around 3:30pm. Six and a half hours after my delivery this morning. It picks up tomorrow morning! It delivers on Thursday! 343 routed miles.

Well, Fuck-tard and I had some words over it. I'm going to sit for 24 hours to pick up a 343 mile load that delivers on Thursday?

Ever the fuck-tard, my dispatcher said some things that made me so mad that I felt physically ill. He essentially told me I'd be sitting whether I liked it or not, and that if I tried to go anywhere else (I'd thought about going down to St. Pete and hanging with Victoria for the evening) they'd charge me $1 per mile.

15:33 (Wicasta) Well, since my load doesn't pick up until tomorrow morning, I'm going to drop my trailer at shipper and bobtail to St. Petersburg for the night.

15:41 (KW) It's 66 miles to St. Pete. 66 miles back. $1 per mile is what it'll cost you. Your choice.

15:44 (Wicasta) You're kidding me. This coming from the company who has empty moved me from Miami, Florida to Valdosta, Georgia to look for an empty trailer?

16:12 (Wicasta) What's the name of my load planner?

16:33 (Wicasta) What's the name of my load planner?

16:38 (Wicasta) Look, if I talk to K____ Rickensrude next week about this, I'd like to be able to refer to my load planner by name. Especially if I'm sitting because I'm supposed to have ticked off my load planner.

16:42 (KW) You've ticked off all of the load planners. They rely on accurate ETAs to plan you. You refuse to update your ETAs.

16:45 (Wicasta) That's a lie, and you know it. I send them in and you don't put them into the system. If there's a performance problem here, it's in Greensboro, not in this truck.

16:57 (KW) I'll check on you in the morning. KW


Well. That did it for me. I sat around and fumed for a bit. The more I thought about it, the more inconceivable it was to me that I would do anything for this asshole. If I was sitting there the next morning, it'd be like he pissed on me and got away with it.

Right now I'm in Orlando, heading east towards I-95. I'm taking the truck back to Greensboro. I don't give a damn if they charge me. I'm done. I'm not dealing with that prick anymore. Fuck-tard told me he'd check in on me in the morning. By all means. Please do. He'll find the truck in Greensboro and me out the door. I can't think of a better way to say “fuck you”.

Look, here's the issue. Week before last, Fuck-tard threatened me over my ETAs. He claims I don't update them. I do, but the only way to update your ETA is to send a message to your dispatcher (there's no macro that will let you update it in the system yourself), and he is supposed to update them. But Fuck-tard doesn't. Then to cover his ass when it becomes an issue, he jumps on me on the satcomm, making it sound in the text record like I'm the one not doing my job. So the other week he told me that if I didn't do better at updating my ETAs, I was going to find myself sitting a lot.

Well, early last week I got into a delivery later than I'd originally said I would. That time he actually had me, because I'd put in my PM ETA as an AM ETA. I made a mistake. Fuck-tard pounced on it when I reached delivery. “Check out that ETA would ya????” I knew exactly what he meant. I was the asshole who still hadn't learned my lesson.

After that, they made good on their threat to make me sit. My next load didn't pick up until late that evening, and was a short run that couldn't deliver until late the next day. So it meant I sat all day.

Fast-forward to today. I delivered at 9am (an hour later than I said I would, because of an accident in Orlando). They don't assign me another load until 3:30pm, it doesn't pick up until the next morning, and is a short run that doesn't deliver for two days. And on top of it, they're going to charge me $1 per mile if, in all that time, I go anywhere else to ease the boredom?

Actually, to be honest, in the end the thing that got me was not so much the sitting as Fuck-tard's attitude. Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining.

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