In which Rachel bitches about her job:
An integral part of my job (and indeed, having food to eat, clothes to buy, the very economy) is relying on truck drivers to deliver product when they say they're going to deliver it. Now, don't take me for a snob when I tell you I hate truck drivers. The thing is, you can never rely on any of them (in my experience, yada, yada, I'm so PC) to actually do what they say they're going to do.
Yesterday, I was relying on a shipment to get to my customer. My customer called me this morning, rather angry to tell me this truck driver I had relied on didn't show up. You see, sometime between Friday, when he picked up my product in Texas, and yesterday, when he was supposed to deliver it in LA, he decided to quit his job. And not tell anybody. That's right, he just dropped an entire truckload of material somewhere between there and here, and went home (or on a meth binge, or god knows what). This did not make me happy. It did not make my customer happy. It did not make my boss happy.
Perhaps I've already told you some of my truck driver stories, gentle reader. Did I tell you about the one who found Jesus? This one was bringing product from Mexico to Georgia, but somewhere in between he got a message from GOD, telling him God didn't approve of his truck driver lifestyle. This one left his truck and all on the side of the interstate and walked off never to be heard from again.
Or the lady truck driver who walked into my office one day dripping blood. Have I told you that one? You see, she had a bit of a vanity issue, and had her long, fake, red nails all done up pretty. Turns out you can't unbuckle the straps that hold my material onto the truck without ripping a couple of those nails right down to the quick. The carpet still has blood stains where she stood and asked, "ya'll got a Band-aid?"
I hate truck drivers.
An integral part of my job (and indeed, having food to eat, clothes to buy, the very economy) is relying on truck drivers to deliver product when they say they're going to deliver it. Now, don't take me for a snob when I tell you I hate truck drivers. The thing is, you can never rely on any of them (in my experience, yada, yada, I'm so PC) to actually do what they say they're going to do.
Yesterday, I was relying on a shipment to get to my customer. My customer called me this morning, rather angry to tell me this truck driver I had relied on didn't show up. You see, sometime between Friday, when he picked up my product in Texas, and yesterday, when he was supposed to deliver it in LA, he decided to quit his job. And not tell anybody. That's right, he just dropped an entire truckload of material somewhere between there and here, and went home (or on a meth binge, or god knows what). This did not make me happy. It did not make my customer happy. It did not make my boss happy.
Perhaps I've already told you some of my truck driver stories, gentle reader. Did I tell you about the one who found Jesus? This one was bringing product from Mexico to Georgia, but somewhere in between he got a message from GOD, telling him God didn't approve of his truck driver lifestyle. This one left his truck and all on the side of the interstate and walked off never to be heard from again.
Or the lady truck driver who walked into my office one day dripping blood. Have I told you that one? You see, she had a bit of a vanity issue, and had her long, fake, red nails all done up pretty. Turns out you can't unbuckle the straps that hold my material onto the truck without ripping a couple of those nails right down to the quick. The carpet still has blood stains where she stood and asked, "ya'll got a Band-aid?"
I hate truck drivers.
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the baby arrives around august 16th. pictures will be available for 29.95 plus processing, shipping, handling, and optional framing for eighteen easy installments of 227 dollars. his name shall be trucker. he will be a rockstar.