Murphy's Field Day

The last 24 hours, I think everything that could go wrong, did. You just have those days you think maybe you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed, and this was one of them. I drove to Ringgold, Virginia, for my pick up which should have been quick. I dropped my empty trailer and tried to pick up the loaded one. It had been dropped way too high, which meant I needed to crank the landing gear down to lower the trailer. But it was very heavy and I could barely turn the handle, so it took me about half an hour of struggling and sweating in the southern heat to get it to where it needed to be. It was all good now….or not. As I backed under the trailer, it simply rolled backwards and I couldn’t back under it far enough to connect. The brakes didn’t seem to be working properly. I decided to connect the airlines and supply air to the brake system as I backed under, as this should have helped, but it didn’t. The trailer still rolled. It had no brakes at all. I contacted dispatch and they called a repairman to come out. I was hot and sweaty and felt horribly grimy and desperately wanted a shower. I asked the shipper if it was ok with them if I went to get a shower and they could tell the repairman what to do when he arrived. It was not a problem for them, so off I went. I felt so much better as I walked back to my truck, gloriously clean and smelling more like a girl and less like a trucker. I had an urgent message on the satellite computer in my truck. “Where are you? The mechanic is onsite and can’t find you.”
I rushed back to the shipper but he was gone. They said they let him in the gate, but he had not come inside or talked to anyone, just left. I knew this would come back on me. I called dispatch and asked them to send the mechanic back. They tried. He refused, and said he had no time. He would come tomorrow. But the load had to be delivered tomorrow, and it was for a big important customer. They contacted a different repair company and sent someone out. By the time he arrived and fixed the trailer, I could never make it to the delivery on time, so they decided to have me switch with another driver in Pennsylvania.
I headed out in the morning. Never have I ever gotten so many messages in a day. I was hit with a barrage of them, and of course they were all extremely urgent.
“Lizzy, it’s Randy. I need an eta to Pennsylvania asap”
“Lizzy, it’s Trish. Did you set up an appointment for your F.A.S.T. card reapplication interview? It’s very important. Please respond asap.”
“Lizzy, its Dave. Please come see me in the safety department when you get back to Cambridge.”
“Lizzy, it’s Randy again. I need you to fax me the paperwork for the last load, ASAP!! This is very urgent.”
I couldn’t even answer them as fast as they were coming in. So as I walking to the fax machine, papers in hand, I was also on the phone with Customs, setting up my interview for the F.A.S.T. card, while figuring out my arrival to Waverly Pennsylania. Of course the fax machine wasn’t working. Try another place. Theirs was broken too. Third time is the charm. I was getting stressed. Deep breath. One thing at a time. It’s work, it’s nothing personal. Knock things off the list one at a time.
Finally I was back on the road again to my meeting with the other driver. I pulled into the lot in Waverly, and the other driver was waiting for me. He got out of his truck and raised his eyebrows. “Woah, I didn’t realize you would be a girl.”
“That’s probably because I don’t go out of my way to tell people I’m female. Here’s your paperwork.”
“You single?”
Grrr. “As in, do I drive solo, or am I boyfriendless?”
“Hehe…..either, I guess.”
He was trashy looking with rotten teeth. And creepy. “I drive solo, but I have a boyfriend. We’re very in love.” (That was a lie.)
“Oh, that’s cool.” He was very jittery, and told me it was because he desperately needed a smoke, and proceeded to bum five bucks off me for cigarettes even though it hadn’t even been a week since payday. I sighed. I wasn’t gonna fight anything more today. I gave it to him, while thinking, ‘Why the hell am I paying for someone else’s smokes? I don’t even smoke! And how bottom of the barrel is that? Bumming money off female co-workers?!’
A phone call from Randy. “Lizzy, you faxed me the wrong paperwork. I need the one with the customers signatures on it.”
“Oh, crap. I don’t have it. I accidentally kept the one without the signatures. Sorry.”
He sighed. “Ok, well, if you don’t have it, you don’t have it.”
“Sorry Randy. Everything is going wrong the last day or two.”
“Uh huh. And it’s all coming back on you and me, girl.”
Smarter Lizzy, smarter. Get your head out of the clouds and stop making mistakes. Mind on the job. Think things through. I know this is no one’s fault but mine. I’m not used to that. Things will be better tomorrow.