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Den of the Beastly Bear
Hi Folks!
Sometimes I wonder about people...Ok, so MOST of the time I wonder about people.
When I was driving for Perry Drugs we had routes that were "bid" on by seniority that were guaranteed overtime, the rest of the week we rotated through "local" deliveries (those that didn't require an overnight stay).
There was this store manager down in Dearborn, everyone called her "The Nazi"! (Long before Seinfeld's Soup Nazi!)
5'1", Blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun with not a strand out of place and blue eyed. She was pretty, but ruined it with the "I'm short and a woman so I've got to be a colossal bitch so everyone will take me seriously!" attitude.
The stories I had heard of her being "difficult" were legion, but I had never really had a problem with her.
I arrived one day to deliver her store, the third of four for me that day and when I arrived they were not ready for me just yet. I had run straight through, skipping my breaks and lunch in an effort to beat the heat of the day as much as possible. It was August, which in Michigan is often worse than July. Because they were not quite ready I walked out to the floor and bought a Coke and a $.25 bag of chips to tide me over.
I was in the back room waiting for the stock guys to get everything the way they wanted it, eating my chips and sipping my Coke when in she blew like a hurricane.
She started in on the stock guys for not being ready, then she whirled on me. Clapping her hands like she was rounding up hogs.
"Come on Driver, COME ON. You can eat chips on your own time, get your ASS IN GEAR, we've got a truck to unload!!!"
I finished my chips and tossed my bag in the trash, summoned up all the charming I could muster and asked her:
"Hey, are you married?"
All of a sudden she went from power-mad ubër Nazi to coquettish young girl, she kind of patted her bun and blushing said:
"Why yes, yes I am. Why do you ask?"
"Because I didn't marry you. And I don't live with you. And I don't have to sleep with you. So...I don't have to put up with your shit! You will treat me with respect and not clap at me like your little french poodle, or I will pull that truck down the street to the nearest restaurant and take BOTH my breaks and my lunch and you won't see me for an hour...we understand each other?"
She spat and sputtered a second with an "I never...You can't talk to me like that...I should call your boss..."
"Go ahead," I told her walking for the door "remember that you used profanity in speaking to me first, in front of these witnesses you've been treating so well...see ya in an hour!"
"Wait, WAIT!" she called after me. "I apologize, I shouldn't have started out that way...it was rude."
I stopped and told her "I'm sorry too...but I really hate being clapped at...I'll get the truck set up, OK?"
"OK"
And that was that, the one, and only time I had a problem with her.
I don't know why it was so common for Store managers to be disrespectful of their drivers, why they thought they were in charge.
I had to tell more than one that "We operate on the Navy principal here..."
"What's that?" They'd ask.
"See that door there?" I'd say pointing to their back door.
"Everything the other side of that door is your ship, and this..."
I'd say indicating my truck "this is my ship. Now the Captain of that ship doesn't tell the captain of THIS ship what to do..."
Sometimes their arrogance came back to bite them in the ass.
We had an AutoWorks store in Saginaw, the last stop of the route.
The auto parts stores got some pretty heavy stuff. We had these green plastic totes they shipped less than whole cases of things in.
These tubs were 28"X18"X18", filled with shock absorbers they easily topped 60 lbs. If they happened to have motorcycle batteries they could be even heavier. Now our trailers were 48 feet long and we had 45' of rollers. So by the time we got to the last store, the rollers were waist high at about a 30° angle and a 45 foot run to build up speed.
As a conscientious driver, I liked to warn the folks in the store if a box or tote was heavy. They couldn't tell just by watching me, as I did this all day every day and I was built for this.
So one day I arrived at the Saginaw store, set up my rollers and started sending their load down. The Store manager was a fella that made Davey Jones look muscular...5'4" and a buck twenty soaking wet, if that! So as I started getting to the heavier things (Light on top, heavy on the bottom) I called out my usual "Heavy!"
The Manager waited until the box made it down to him, then called up the rollers to me...
"Hey, we're not a bunch of women down here that you gotta tell us what's heavy and what's not...just send that shit down the roller and let us worry about what's heavy and what's not!!!"
Now I was just trying to be nice, but hey...if that's what he wanted.
Ooooooookay.
I aim to please.
So I continued to send down cases without speaking another word.
As I got to the bottom row, I picked up a green tote full of shock absorbers. I looked down the rollers to be sure the Manager was paying attention...he wasn't. He was talking to someone out of my limited field of vision and just had his hand up in a casual "Stop" position. I waited for him to finish his conversation, instead he waved for me to send it...
So I did.
I gave it no shove to help it along, none was needed...I merely let go. As the tote accelerated down the rollers, you could hear it gathering momentum in the pitch of the rollers whine. By the time it reached the bottom of the roller, I'd guess it was going 10 MPH.
The tote hit his hand.
His hand hit his shoulder.
He and the tote hit the ground and skidded to a stop 10 feet further in the store than where he started.
He leapt to his feet, fighting mad!
"You Mother Fucker, you did that on purpose!!! You trying to kill me?!?"
I looked confused:
"Well, you're not a bunch of women down there...you don't need me to tell you what's heavy and what's not...I just send the shit down the rollers and let you worry about what's heavy and what's not. Maybe you should pay attention instead of talking to your buddy."
With a great deal of grumbling he resumed his position at the end of the rollers...
Moral of the story: When someone's being nice...
Don't be a dick!
Sometimes I just wonder about people...
Don't let people wonder about you...Lol!
Be Well Folks!
Beastly Bear
Sometimes I wonder about people...Ok, so MOST of the time I wonder about people.
When I was driving for Perry Drugs we had routes that were "bid" on by seniority that were guaranteed overtime, the rest of the week we rotated through "local" deliveries (those that didn't require an overnight stay).
There was this store manager down in Dearborn, everyone called her "The Nazi"! (Long before Seinfeld's Soup Nazi!)
5'1", Blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun with not a strand out of place and blue eyed. She was pretty, but ruined it with the "I'm short and a woman so I've got to be a colossal bitch so everyone will take me seriously!" attitude.
The stories I had heard of her being "difficult" were legion, but I had never really had a problem with her.
I arrived one day to deliver her store, the third of four for me that day and when I arrived they were not ready for me just yet. I had run straight through, skipping my breaks and lunch in an effort to beat the heat of the day as much as possible. It was August, which in Michigan is often worse than July. Because they were not quite ready I walked out to the floor and bought a Coke and a $.25 bag of chips to tide me over.
I was in the back room waiting for the stock guys to get everything the way they wanted it, eating my chips and sipping my Coke when in she blew like a hurricane.
She started in on the stock guys for not being ready, then she whirled on me. Clapping her hands like she was rounding up hogs.
"Come on Driver, COME ON. You can eat chips on your own time, get your ASS IN GEAR, we've got a truck to unload!!!"
I finished my chips and tossed my bag in the trash, summoned up all the charming I could muster and asked her:
"Hey, are you married?"
All of a sudden she went from power-mad ubër Nazi to coquettish young girl, she kind of patted her bun and blushing said:
"Why yes, yes I am. Why do you ask?"
"Because I didn't marry you. And I don't live with you. And I don't have to sleep with you. So...I don't have to put up with your shit! You will treat me with respect and not clap at me like your little french poodle, or I will pull that truck down the street to the nearest restaurant and take BOTH my breaks and my lunch and you won't see me for an hour...we understand each other?"
She spat and sputtered a second with an "I never...You can't talk to me like that...I should call your boss..."
"Go ahead," I told her walking for the door "remember that you used profanity in speaking to me first, in front of these witnesses you've been treating so well...see ya in an hour!"
"Wait, WAIT!" she called after me. "I apologize, I shouldn't have started out that way...it was rude."
I stopped and told her "I'm sorry too...but I really hate being clapped at...I'll get the truck set up, OK?"
"OK"
And that was that, the one, and only time I had a problem with her.
I don't know why it was so common for Store managers to be disrespectful of their drivers, why they thought they were in charge.
I had to tell more than one that "We operate on the Navy principal here..."
"What's that?" They'd ask.
"See that door there?" I'd say pointing to their back door.
"Everything the other side of that door is your ship, and this..."
I'd say indicating my truck "this is my ship. Now the Captain of that ship doesn't tell the captain of THIS ship what to do..."
Sometimes their arrogance came back to bite them in the ass.
We had an AutoWorks store in Saginaw, the last stop of the route.
The auto parts stores got some pretty heavy stuff. We had these green plastic totes they shipped less than whole cases of things in.
These tubs were 28"X18"X18", filled with shock absorbers they easily topped 60 lbs. If they happened to have motorcycle batteries they could be even heavier. Now our trailers were 48 feet long and we had 45' of rollers. So by the time we got to the last store, the rollers were waist high at about a 30° angle and a 45 foot run to build up speed.
As a conscientious driver, I liked to warn the folks in the store if a box or tote was heavy. They couldn't tell just by watching me, as I did this all day every day and I was built for this.
So one day I arrived at the Saginaw store, set up my rollers and started sending their load down. The Store manager was a fella that made Davey Jones look muscular...5'4" and a buck twenty soaking wet, if that! So as I started getting to the heavier things (Light on top, heavy on the bottom) I called out my usual "Heavy!"
The Manager waited until the box made it down to him, then called up the rollers to me...
"Hey, we're not a bunch of women down here that you gotta tell us what's heavy and what's not...just send that shit down the roller and let us worry about what's heavy and what's not!!!"
Now I was just trying to be nice, but hey...if that's what he wanted.
Ooooooookay.
I aim to please.
So I continued to send down cases without speaking another word.
As I got to the bottom row, I picked up a green tote full of shock absorbers. I looked down the rollers to be sure the Manager was paying attention...he wasn't. He was talking to someone out of my limited field of vision and just had his hand up in a casual "Stop" position. I waited for him to finish his conversation, instead he waved for me to send it...
So I did.
I gave it no shove to help it along, none was needed...I merely let go. As the tote accelerated down the rollers, you could hear it gathering momentum in the pitch of the rollers whine. By the time it reached the bottom of the roller, I'd guess it was going 10 MPH.
The tote hit his hand.
His hand hit his shoulder.
He and the tote hit the ground and skidded to a stop 10 feet further in the store than where he started.
He leapt to his feet, fighting mad!
"You Mother Fucker, you did that on purpose!!! You trying to kill me?!?"
I looked confused:
"Well, you're not a bunch of women down there...you don't need me to tell you what's heavy and what's not...I just send the shit down the rollers and let you worry about what's heavy and what's not. Maybe you should pay attention instead of talking to your buddy."
With a great deal of grumbling he resumed his position at the end of the rollers...
Moral of the story: When someone's being nice...
Don't be a dick!
Sometimes I just wonder about people...
Don't let people wonder about you...Lol!
Be Well Folks!
Beastly Bear
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