CHAPTER 11
MEETING MY RIVALRY MR.PAUL
(Three weeks later)
My grandma passed away less than two weeks before Christmas in 2013. The day after she passed away I set my best 5k run record in the 2013 Jingle Bell run in Lancaster PA. My "shadow", Mr. Davy Bewley even witnessed me crossing the finish line at 23:08 as he stood on top of FlaggerForce's boom truck laying out orange cones for the event. Davy was a few years younger than me but his father Charlie had been a trucker over ten or fifteen years and had been friends with my parents most of my teenage life. In fact his father Charlie was part of the reason I opted to become a trucker in the first place when my father talked about the money Charlie made over the years. But just a year or so after my FlaggerForce episode my man Davy did FlaggerForce a solid by wrecking one of their trucks. I was completely enthused by it and couldn't help from giggling. I was even tempted to mail him money but then worried I could potentially get in legal trouble for doing so but I was very proud of Davy. After doing much online research and reading many posts I realized that I wasn't entirely singled out as there was most definitely an indelible indeed.com electronic trail portraying FlaggerForce showing favoritism by rising above the law and constantly stealing from its employees. Even though FlaggerForce had a history of being corrupt every year it seemed multimillionaires "The Donors" were always sure to pay LNP news lots and lots of money to publish faux inspirational articles to lure the teenage snapper head crew still refusing to put down the joystick that hid in their mommy's basement until their late 30s. It didn't matter how cancerous you were, if you dangled enough money at LNP news they were sure never to say no.
It was now spring in 2014. I was finished my 12,000 mile training period with Celadon and now officially allowed to run solo where it's only me in the truck. Even though I had stayed skinny my entire life everyone that knew me would always know one thing about me. I DIDN'T SKIP MEALS.
I had just gotten back from my very first home time and had just finished delivering a load in New Jersey. My mind was still all over the place because I had spent my first home time at Brandywine hospital because reality had set in for my Pop Pop that Mom Mom wasn't coming back as she had passed away just less than two weeks before Christmas. The police had to take Pop Pop's guns away because Pop Pop was feeling suicidal and had been committed to the behavioral health unit at Brandywine hospital. A hospital known to facilitate very low, and I mean very low income individuals.
Somehow I had gotten lost in New Jersey and was not in the best of moods. I was getting stressed and my tummy was growling like a Dinosaur. I knew my stress would lessen after I ate and it was nearing thirteen hundred (1pm). But I had a big problem. Dirty Jersey is that one little state that only seems to have one truck stop!
I didn't know that back in 2014 that these lucrative trucking companies had all this James Bond type spy ware to know where we are at all times but it wouldn't have changed my decision in the least bit anyways as my tummy made my decisions once I reached "Hangry" mode. I eventually opted to park the truck at some random shipper and go on a very long walk until I found food. And I mean a VERY LONG WALK. Lucky for me I was a 5k runner so it wouldn't take me long to clear a mile or two. I was fortunate to eventually find a Wendy's restaurant less than two miles away. I even made sure to get my food "to go" so I could eat as I walked back to my rig. That's when my cellphone chirped only for me to get a call from a dispatcher from Celadon that wasn't even my assigned dispatcher. It was in fact that dorky Jake From State Farm wannabe guy that did the Celadon Orientation tours of the company on hiring day. None other than Mr. Paul Odell. I obviously didn't know him on a personal level just yet and was curious why he was calling me without being my assigned dispatcher.
"Is this Blake?" "Yes, who is this?"
"This is Paul. Paul here at Celadon."
"Oh hi Paul. How are you doing today?" I said trying to hide my heavy noshing sounds from my triple cheeseburger.
This was always the funny part. The faux professionalism. Starting the conversation off cordial but knowing all the heated bullshit was just about to come out.
Paul continued. "Hey um, any chance you are near the truck?"
I hid my giggle. I still had a mile and a half to go. "Um...well kinda I guess."
"Kinda? What do you mean by kinda? How far away are you from the truck?"
I gave myself an extra 3/4 mile to sugarcoat. "Oh less than a mile I would say."
That's when Paul got freaky on me. "You're that far away from your truck! Why are you not with your truck?"
"I dunno. Got hungry I guess. Missed my lunch and it's almost two O clock."
Paul went on with his little spiel with his what I call "Attorney Talk". He wasn't even my dispatcher. He wasn't even supposed to be calling me for all I knew. He acted like he was drumming up an entire case against me as he continued to babble that "attorney talk". It was like I could literally see him in my mind splaying fingers one by one as he vented his case to me. I didn't like Paul. I didn't like this dorky Jake From State Farm wannabe.
"Okay." He said, "You haven't done a macro 3 or even a macro 4 for that matter. Nobody knows where you are and now you don't even know just how far away you are from the truck?"
I wasn't phased by this goober in the least. "What did you say your name was?"
"Paul"
I was pissed. I let him hear my chomping sounds this time. "I'm eating a sandwich Paul. Told you that already."
Over the phone I could hear giggling sounds from the other dispatchers in the background. I was by no means intimidated by this Geek Squad wannabee and I was determined to finish eating my triple decker before it got cold.
Had my new guy card expired just yet? What was wrong with these people? And who was this guy Paul jumping down my throat on my very first week solo?
Paul continued to bitch like an attorney as I tried desperately to place what he looked like in my mind. It took a while but I was eventually able to use my photographic memory and remembered him giving us the company tour just before hire. But there was definitely more funniness to it. THE LOOK ON THAT YOUNG BLOND GIRL'S FACE. It was priceless.
I played back EVERYTHING in my mind as I tried to recall images of Paul but will never forget the smile that young hot blond gave me when she pieced together that all I heard from Paul's mouth during our tour was "blah-blah-blah- blah."
It was hysterically funny because I was in fact in La-la land. I never dreamed I could possibly provide such extreme entertainment simply by being myself but somehow the cute blond in her early twenties sitting at a computer had made me. I don't know her name or even her role in the company but when she noticed everything Paul was saying went in one ear and out the next she didn't hesitate to chuckle hysterically and start texting somebody. Why was I such entertainment to the company?
Paul's over the phone lecture caused me to walk a little bit faster back to the truck but I was not afraid of this guy in the least bit. I had $15,000.00 tucked away and two reputable siblings that could vouch for me that "meal time was meal time" when it came to dealing with structured Uncle b (me).
I kept thinking about the blond chicky momma highly entertained by my daydreaming episode at Celadon wondering what my odds were if I could land a date with her. I knew I probably had 1/1000000 odds but even the guy in the Dumb and Dumber movie would agree that I still had a chance. She looked a good five years younger than me and definitely out of my league but it was still fun to do all that wishful thinking.
I giggled to myself a few more times as I furled up my Wendy's sandwich wrapper and made my way back to my 18 wheeler ten speed Trucker-Cycle. I had stuff I had to do at Wells Fargo bank and when I called them the guy working there had assured me that taking my 18 wheeler through their drive thru to get this stuff done probably would not be a good idea.
But as I finally unlocked my Rig and tried to hatch a plan of how to vamoose Dirty Jersey there was still one very funny thought plaguing my mind that I didn't even come up with on my own. It was something some other driver had headlined on the Indeed.Com website that I still found very entertaining.
"Instead of calling this place Celadon they should call it Sell-A- Con."
So who was the driver that wrote it?