Sometimes, people don’t make a lot of sense. Did I ever tell about how
I drove almost 2000 miles because of a piece of lettuce? A piece of lettuce
about the size of a postage stamp, no less! It’s true. Here’s the story.
I picked up a load of recycled cardboard. Twenty-four big bales. I’m
sure you’ve seen them, either being hauled on a flatbed or maybe at a grocery
store, waiting to be picked up. Trucks take them back to the paper mill to be
recycled into new cardboard. There are different classifications and grades of
cardboard, each with their own set of rules for the minimum standard as to
their condition.
I drove from Detroit, over to Chicago, and then up through Wisconsin,
and finally just across the state line back into Michigan. I was supposed to
deliver the load to a place in Memominee, Michigan, a 650-mile trip.
Everything went fine until I was backed into the dock expecting to get
my trailer unloaded. I waited. Then, waited some more. Finally, a guy came up,
knocking on the door of the truck. I knew there was a problem when I saw the
white hardhat. A supervisor usually doesn’t step foot outside the safe confines
of his office or the little area of which he is in charge.
But apparently, at this particular location, it required a supervisor
to refuse a load. He escorted me inside to the loading dock to show me why. I
was thinking there was something drastically wrong with the load, you know,
like a dead body or something. But no, there was no body. In fact, I couldn’t
see anything wrong at all. Not until the guy in the white hat pointed it out—a
single piece of lettuce. That’s all. Just a about a one-inch square piece of
lettuce. But that was enough. My load wasn’t up to their standard for
cleanliness. He wrote “Contaminated” and “Refused” across my bill of lading.
Evidently, lettuce is a highly toxic substance! Who knew?
I called my dispatcher and was told to take it back. So, I headed for
Detroit. Another 650 miles.
The trip had covered two days. I’d driven 1300 hundred miles and the
load was right back where it had started. I dropped the trailer and left. Then,
the very next day, I was sent to pick up the same load again—minus the
offending piece of lettuce. Another 650 miles. This time the load was accepted.
All in all, I’d covered 1950 miles in three days, for one measly load.
Not that I minded a lot. I still got paid for all the miles plus, they paid me
to pick it up and to unload. And then, to pick up and unload it again. And,
then again. Something tells me that load wasn’t too profitable for someone.
The thing is, I could have just removed the lettuce myself. A quick
flick of my wrist and Voilà, problem solved. I even offered. But no,
that was simply not allowed, I was told. The supervisor in the white hat said
we had to follow the “rules.” Yeah. Sometimes people don’t make a lot of sense.
__________________________
Current Reads
Beem Weeks
Jazz Baby
Rhani D’Chae
Shadow Of The Drill
Suzy Turner
Forever Fredless
SPOTLIGHT Author
Michelle Abbott
Just Stay
_______________________________
Bruce A. Borders is the author of
more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room
913, Over My Dead Body, The
Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on
iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS
Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com
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