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I Hate Mondays |
| Written by Murray Brown | |
| Sunday, 25 March 2007 | |
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Share it:      I hate Mondays, I’m not too keen on Tuesdays either and the rest of the days of the week all depress me to some extent. Everything bad that’s happened to me over the years has always been on one of these days. Take last Monday for instance………… Chapter 1. There I was, at work early in the cold and the frost, and the automatic timer hadn’t worked yet again and my office was like a refrigerator. Being a dispatcher for a small transport company in a small country town in the middle of nowhere had lost a lot of it’s appeal over the months and I was giving my continued employment in this field considerable, and critical, thought. As usual, it being a Monday, a number of my drivers had reported in that they weren’t fit to work and, the fact that I was starting the week down a couple of drivers, was really helping to cheer me up. I had my head down studying my work diary and, with my phone pressed to my ear, was desperately trying to pacify a furious client about his delivery being delayed when I heard my door open and close. I didn’t look up at once and when I finally managed to throw the receiver back into it’s cradle I had forgotten my visitor and so I got quite a surprise when I heard; “G’day Boss. Got any work going?” When I looked up it was to see a large, in fact very large, man standing with his cap in hand looking down at me. Dressed in grubby jeans, a long swandri shirt, well worn boots and sporting a number of visible tattoos and a fairly wild hair-do, he didn’t look to be this company’s usual type of employee but, with things the way they were, I would have hired St Nick himself if he held the correct licences. “Morning. You’re up and about early. There may be something going. Have you done any driving before and what licences do you hold? Have you got a Dangerous Goods Extension?” “Yeah Boss. I’ve done a lot of trucking over the years and I have got all the licences. Here look.” He pulled a well worn wallet from his back pocket and, extracting his license from it, he dropped it on the desk in front of me. I checked it carefully and saw that he could legally drive almost anything that moved and to make matters even better he had a Dangerous Goods Extension and even if there was a slight difference in the names on the two documents I was more than prepared to overlook such a minor discrepancy. “Hmm. These look good. How come you’re not working at present? I’d have thought that someone with your experience would have no trouble in finding work?” The big fellow looked a bit embarrassed and sheepishly blurted out,“Had a bit of missus trouble, Boss. My last boss didn’t seem to like me having a friendly drink or two with his missus and sacked me.” I almost laughed but managed to keep a serious face and told him that as long as he behaved and kept away from other blokes wives he should be all right here and that I would give him a weeks trial. After showing him which truck he would be driving and explaining our radio etiquette I watched him leave the yard, manifest on the dash board, with some trepidation. I was not really sure that I was doing the right thing but I was in a position that didn’t leave me much room for manoeuvre. The next couple of hours passed quickly with me suffering considerable abuse, including a number of physical threats, about the delays and problems caused by our ‘So called delivery system’ and realising that the phone had finally stopped ringing was a major relief to me. My respite was short lived however, and it was with complete disbelief that I listened to our radio system get totally disregarded and abused. “Are you there, Boss? Boss? Boss? Is this ******* thing working? Boss answer me.” I sighed deeply as I picked up the microphone and replied; “Depot receiving. Identify yourself and advise what your problem is.” “Yeah it’s definitely me. I just had a bit of an accident and not too sure what to do.” ****! And it was his first day as well.“What happened and where are you.” “I’m right out at the back of the run and I just came round the corner and there was this pig in the muddle of the road and I couldn’t miss him and now he’s lying in the grass squealing, probably about his broken leg. What should I do, Boss?” Hmmm…… Pig! Visions of roast pork and chops and bar-b-cues came quickly to mind. “Is there any body around and hows the truck? Not too badly damaged I hope.” “No, Boss. There’s no one for miles and there is hardly even a dent in the truck.” “OK Here’s what you do then. Slit the pigs’ throat and bleed it and then sling it on the back of the truck and smuggle it back here to the depot. You’d better chuck a cover over it. Did you get that?” “ Yeah Boss. No probs. See you later.” And it all went quiet. I relaxed and wondered if this might be the turning point of the day. I should have known better. “You still there, Boss?” stupid question, where else would I be? Still half an hour of peace and quiet was gratefully accepted. “Yes, I’m still here. What’s the problem this time?” “No real problem, Boss. I’ve bled the pig and he’s on the back of the truck. I’m just wondering what I should do with his motorbike?” As I sat there, speechless, with my head buried in my hands I realised that this was just another typical Monday probably heading downhill as the week progressed. Copyright 2007 Murray Brown |
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