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This site is a member of WebRing. To browse visit here. Monday, May 10, 2004 We all have our bad days, but when you're pulling 80,000 pounds of freight with a truck the size of a small locomotive, you can have a spectacularly bad day. Poor Shelley—she had a doozy. It all started when the store personnel where she was delivering first thing this morning showed up an hour late, putting her an hour behind to get to her next delivery before she had even started unloading at the first one. Then she discovered that the 900 boxes she was supposed to be taking off the truck were actually 894 individual boxes, and six pallets with a total of over 300 boxes. So instead of unloading 900 items, she actually had to handle over 1200. But she did it, with 15 minutes to spare to make it on time to the next store, about four miles away. She called them for directions, not having been to that store before. "Turn right on Pine Tree Road," they told her. Unfortunately, they didn't bother to also tell her that some years back, Pine Tree Road had been permanently cut in half by a restricted access four lane highway, and that she needed to turn at the second sign for the street, not the first one. She found a street marked Pine Tree Rd. in a typical looking commercial district, and turned in. She was committed to the turn and couldn't abort it when she realized she was turning into a residential neighborhood. She told me later, "I should have just stopped, put my flashers on and called 911, and told them I needed assistance to back out of the residential street back onto the highway. But it was a nice wide street and I thought I could probably go around the block and get out." Famous last words. She made it around the first intersection, but the next one was more narrow, and made worse by people parking close to the corner. She got out of the truck and moved some garbage cans out of her path, but still had to pull partly into the yard of one house. She said that if it hadn't rained there last night, she would probably have been all right, but the minute she got off the pavement, the truck began to sink into the soft lawn. "I just tore those people's yard up," she said, sounding distraught. "I had to spin my wheels to get out, and it threw mud everywhere and just made holes in their yard." She stopped the truck once she had gotten clear and called 911 to report the incident. Just about that time, a woman came running out of the house next door, yelling that she was calling the police, and was amazed to find that Shelley had already done so. "You're the first person who's ever stopped," she said. "The trucks that deliver to the lumber company get lost back here all the time—this man's yard has been torn up so many times we've lost count, and you're the first person who's ever stopped." Shelley had to call her company, of course, and while she was on the phone with them, a policeman arrived and began to write her a ticket. She was half crying already, she said, distressed about the damage she had caused and worried about how much trouble she was going to be in with her employer. The neighbor woman heard her sniffling and asked if she had allergies. No, Shelley said, bawling now, she was having a horrible day, and on top of everything else, she was going to get a ticket! The woman burst into tears herself, told the policeman that she had lived in that house for 46 years and had seen countless trucks damage her neighbor's yard, and in all that time, "this young lady is the only one who has ever stopped and taken responsibility, so please don't give her a ticket!" The policeman, Shelley said, threw up his hands and said helplessly, "I can't deal with two crying ladies," crumpled up the ticket and went away, leaving the neighbor to comfort Shelley with a big piece of watermelon and more compliments for having stopped and reported the damage. All that would have been bad enough, but at the next stop, she had to back into a narrow space through a parking lot filled with shoppers' cars. There was plenty of room for them to go around her truck, she said, but they kept speeding straight at her and then swerving at the last minute when they realized she wasn't going to get out of the way. She finally hit her air horn to try to warn one car off, and it stuck! "I was banging on the dash and hitting the button," she said, "but the stupid thing went on for about two minutes!" To cap it all off, as she was leaving the shopping center after her last delivery, she scraped the rear bumper of a parked car. It wasn't a dent, she said, just a scrape, but a noticeable one. She parked the truck, went over to leave a note on the car's windsheld, and then decided instead to go inside and ask security to use the public address system to try to locate the owner of the car. They didn't have a PA system, they said. So she trotted back out to leave her note . . . and found the car had left. "Thank God for small favors!" she said fervently. I suggested she might want to consider getting off the road for the night, and she agreed. I haven't heard anything more from her, so she apparently made it to a truck stop or rest area, and is sleeping off what has to have been the worst day she's had in her driving career. posted by Liz @ 11:18 PM | The template is set to display 10 posts. To see all the posts for this month, click on the month name in the Archive section RSS Feed PERSONAL Send email toliz at life-as-a-spectator-sport.com Home I'm a mother, grandmother, a computer professional, Democrat, Christian. I welcome politely worded comments and email, my spam filter throws the rest away, so don't bother to flame me WHY 'LIFE AS A SPECTATOR SPORT' "If you're lucky not to live in the gutters of a slum, but still can't afford to take vacations in the Alps, you're part of that enormous middle class who lives life through the medium of the television, further separated from "real" life by air conditioner, by automobile, by dishwasher, microwave and ice-in-the-door refrigerator, by automatic washer and dryer, and all the other appliances and conveniences that make it possible for America to live life at second hand. I'm not sure why Americans decided that televised drama was better than the real thing, that cardboard microwave food containers were an adequate substitute for real dishes, and their contents for real food, or that cooking, dishwashing and face-to-face conversation wasn't worth the effort and time it required. Someone fed this nation a plastic crate of out-of-season tomatoes and told us it was life and we took them at their word, and we're so much the poorer for it that it's hard to know where to start to list the shortcomings." I wrote this a couple of years ago, but I have to admit it's much less amusing than I thought it would be to see the artifical construct falling apart. THE NON-ELECTRIC HOME Cleaning, 1 Cleaning, 2 Cleaning, 3 KNITTING BLOGS Extravayarnza Knitting Heretic Mind of Winter Pie Knits Persistent Illusion See Eunny Knit The Keyboard Biologist Taleweaver's Ramblings TECHnitting Wendy Knits FINISHED PROJECTS -------FINISHED IN 2006------- Peruvian Cap Tutti-Frutti Socks Shelley's Socks Carol's Socks -------FINISHED IN 2007------- Chain Link Socks Baby Surprise Jacket Valerie & Friend Baby Bonnet Rainbow Baby Socks Girls Pixie Hood Mitred Square Heart Red & White Socks Coffee Cup Pot Holder Nubbins Dishcloth Garterlac Dishcloth Suede Booties Kate's Socks Norwegian Sweet Baby Cap Half Thumbless Mittens Red Mittens for Akkol -------FINISHED IN 2008------- SELF-RELIANCE AND THE FUTURE -- Blogs and websites -- Causubon's Book Club Orlov Food Storage Made Easy From the Wilderness In the Wake Listening to Katrina Survival Topics The Modern Homestead The Oil Drum Notes from a Hillside Farm -- Mailing Lists -- 12vdc Power Living on the Land Rainwater Refrigeration Alternatives Old Ways of Living POLITICAL BLOGS and SITES The political sites have moved BOOKS I'M READING How to Grow More Vegetables, etc. Small Scale Grain Raising ARCHIVES February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 August 2008 July 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002 Feedjit Live Blog Stats
We all have our bad days, but when you're pulling 80,000 pounds of freight with a truck the size of a small locomotive, you can have a spectacularly bad day. Poor Shelley—she had a doozy. It all started when the store personnel where she was delivering first thing this morning showed up an hour late, putting her an hour behind to get to her next delivery before she had even started unloading at the first one. Then she discovered that the 900 boxes she was supposed to be taking off the truck were actually 894 individual boxes, and six pallets with a total of over 300 boxes. So instead of unloading 900 items, she actually had to handle over 1200. But she did it, with 15 minutes to spare to make it on time to the next store, about four miles away. She called them for directions, not having been to that store before. "Turn right on Pine Tree Road," they told her. Unfortunately, they didn't bother to also tell her that some years back, Pine Tree Road had been permanently cut in half by a restricted access four lane highway, and that she needed to turn at the second sign for the street, not the first one. She found a street marked Pine Tree Rd. in a typical looking commercial district, and turned in. She was committed to the turn and couldn't abort it when she realized she was turning into a residential neighborhood. She told me later, "I should have just stopped, put my flashers on and called 911, and told them I needed assistance to back out of the residential street back onto the highway. But it was a nice wide street and I thought I could probably go around the block and get out." Famous last words. She made it around the first intersection, but the next one was more narrow, and made worse by people parking close to the corner. She got out of the truck and moved some garbage cans out of her path, but still had to pull partly into the yard of one house. She said that if it hadn't rained there last night, she would probably have been all right, but the minute she got off the pavement, the truck began to sink into the soft lawn. "I just tore those people's yard up," she said, sounding distraught. "I had to spin my wheels to get out, and it threw mud everywhere and just made holes in their yard." She stopped the truck once she had gotten clear and called 911 to report the incident. Just about that time, a woman came running out of the house next door, yelling that she was calling the police, and was amazed to find that Shelley had already done so. "You're the first person who's ever stopped," she said. "The trucks that deliver to the lumber company get lost back here all the time—this man's yard has been torn up so many times we've lost count, and you're the first person who's ever stopped." Shelley had to call her company, of course, and while she was on the phone with them, a policeman arrived and began to write her a ticket. She was half crying already, she said, distressed about the damage she had caused and worried about how much trouble she was going to be in with her employer. The neighbor woman heard her sniffling and asked if she had allergies. No, Shelley said, bawling now, she was having a horrible day, and on top of everything else, she was going to get a ticket! The woman burst into tears herself, told the policeman that she had lived in that house for 46 years and had seen countless trucks damage her neighbor's yard, and in all that time, "this young lady is the only one who has ever stopped and taken responsibility, so please don't give her a ticket!" The policeman, Shelley said, threw up his hands and said helplessly, "I can't deal with two crying ladies," crumpled up the ticket and went away, leaving the neighbor to comfort Shelley with a big piece of watermelon and more compliments for having stopped and reported the damage. All that would have been bad enough, but at the next stop, she had to back into a narrow space through a parking lot filled with shoppers' cars. There was plenty of room for them to go around her truck, she said, but they kept speeding straight at her and then swerving at the last minute when they realized she wasn't going to get out of the way. She finally hit her air horn to try to warn one car off, and it stuck! "I was banging on the dash and hitting the button," she said, "but the stupid thing went on for about two minutes!" To cap it all off, as she was leaving the shopping center after her last delivery, she scraped the rear bumper of a parked car. It wasn't a dent, she said, just a scrape, but a noticeable one. She parked the truck, went over to leave a note on the car's windsheld, and then decided instead to go inside and ask security to use the public address system to try to locate the owner of the car. They didn't have a PA system, they said. So she trotted back out to leave her note . . . and found the car had left. "Thank God for small favors!" she said fervently. I suggested she might want to consider getting off the road for the night, and she agreed. I haven't heard anything more from her, so she apparently made it to a truck stop or rest area, and is sleeping off what has to have been the worst day she's had in her driving career.
The template is set to display 10 posts. To see all the posts for this month, click on the month name in the Archive section
RSS Feed
PERSONAL
WHY 'LIFE AS A SPECTATOR SPORT'
"If you're lucky not to live in the gutters of a slum, but still can't afford to take vacations in the Alps, you're part of that enormous middle class who lives life through the medium of the television, further separated from "real" life by air conditioner, by automobile, by dishwasher, microwave and ice-in-the-door refrigerator, by automatic washer and dryer, and all the other appliances and conveniences that make it possible for America to live life at second hand. I'm not sure why Americans decided that televised drama was better than the real thing, that cardboard microwave food containers were an adequate substitute for real dishes, and their contents for real food, or that cooking, dishwashing and face-to-face conversation wasn't worth the effort and time it required. Someone fed this nation a plastic crate of out-of-season tomatoes and told us it was life and we took them at their word, and we're so much the poorer for it that it's hard to know where to start to list the shortcomings." I wrote this a couple of years ago, but I have to admit it's much less amusing than I thought it would be to see the artifical construct falling apart.
THE NON-ELECTRIC HOME
Cleaning, 1 Cleaning, 2 Cleaning, 3
KNITTING BLOGS
Extravayarnza Knitting Heretic Mind of Winter Pie Knits Persistent Illusion See Eunny Knit The Keyboard Biologist Taleweaver's Ramblings TECHnitting Wendy Knits
FINISHED PROJECTS
SELF-RELIANCE AND THE FUTURE
POLITICAL BLOGS and SITES
BOOKS I'M READING
How to Grow More Vegetables, etc. Small Scale Grain Raising
ARCHIVES
February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 August 2008 July 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002
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