According to my son, I am evil. This is the impression I get from him anyway. I got home from work today at my normal time, around 4:30. And within 15 minutes, Damon was crying.
Let me start out by saying that, between my wife and me, I am the stricter parent. I don't think I'm unreasonable, but I make my son do things that I believe every kid "SHOULD DO!"
Damon came outside when I arrived home today, and my first comment to him was, "Thank you, Damon." He asked, "Why, Dad?" And I said, "Because you have clothes on instead of pajamas." (He takes after his mom and wears his pajamas around ALL DAY, which drives Daddy crazy.) At this point, the first round of whining begins, already. Apparently he couldn't find his shoes in the house, and he knows that Evil Dad won't let him ride his bike unless he has shoes on. So now Damon's crying because he doesn't know where his shoes are.
Five minutes pass before we hear the music of the Ice Cream Truck rapidly approaching (a sound that I truly hate because the dumbass driver has the volume so high that I could hear it over 100 Harley Davidsons riding past). At this point, I'm getting slightly irritated... because I've only been home for a few minutes and this is supposed to be my time to "wind down" after a day at work. Now, Damon is mad because he spent all of his money ($3 he earned mowing the yard last weekend) on this very same truck 2 days before... but he wants ice cream NOW, of course. Evil Dad says, "no ice cream." I told him we were going to have dinner before too long... AND we have ice cream and popsicles in the freezer (for later, after dinner). Damon is mad and crying again... but Grandma is here and comes to his rescue, as usual. She gives him money and lets him get ice cream for after dinner. (This, by the way, irritates the crap out of me since she heard me say no, but how can I go above the "Almighty Grandma?")
Dinner is always a fight with Damon, and I try to prepare myself for it ahead of time. Tonight was no different. First, Evil Dad made Damon's friends go home so we could sit and eat dinner as a family (one of the things I like to do now that I actually see my family every day.) About an hour later, Damon came to me with his plate cleaned off to show me that he ate all his food. I looked at the plate and could plainly see that a dog (Lizzie) had licked the plate clean. (Erin had put Lizzie up so we could eat dinner, and Damon apparently let her out during one of his trips to the bathroom... another way he tries to avoid eating.)
So now, I make Damon take his bath and prepare for an evening inside. He's pissed off at Evil Dad, of course. He now knows that, because he didn't eat all of his dinner, he can't have his friends back over to play tonight and he won't get the ice cream he was able to sucker out of Grandma.
All of this fun and I haven't even been home for two hours yet.
If these things make me an Evil Dad, then I guess I'm guilty.
Okay, this has been long enough... I better go so I can figure out the next way to irritate my son... I'm sure he's counting on it!
(Carrie, this post is for you! Erin told me you were wondering when I would post again. It's nice to have a "fan.")
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
An Old Wive's Tale?
For as long as I can remember, I have loved storms (they truly fascinate me; all the different kinds, too). But I have one favorite type... maybe it is the setting, I'm not really sure, but I really enjoy watching these.
Here in Ohio Valley of West Virginia, we get these powerful thunderstorms in the summer. They are brief but they make their presence known!
I can remember sitting on the back porch at our farmhouse as a kid watching these storms come and go, the lightning crawling through the sky like a spider making a web (I always called it spider lightning) and the loud cracks and booms of the thunder (someone tried to tell me that someone in heaven was bowling).
There is a particular part of the storms that I have always watched for. On that very porch I can remember someone telling me to keep your eyes on the trees. I was told that if the leaves on trees start turning upside down, then there is a storm coming. To this very day, I still "keep my eyes on the trees."
This evening I was watching as usual. One of these storms was nearby and I watched the familiar sight of the trees and thought we had a good one coming... some thunder and a tiny bit of lightning, but to my disappointment the storm did not hit us.
So is this thing about the leaves true? There was a storm, but it did not hit where I was, so should the leaves have turned?
Here in Ohio Valley of West Virginia, we get these powerful thunderstorms in the summer. They are brief but they make their presence known!
I can remember sitting on the back porch at our farmhouse as a kid watching these storms come and go, the lightning crawling through the sky like a spider making a web (I always called it spider lightning) and the loud cracks and booms of the thunder (someone tried to tell me that someone in heaven was bowling).
There is a particular part of the storms that I have always watched for. On that very porch I can remember someone telling me to keep your eyes on the trees. I was told that if the leaves on trees start turning upside down, then there is a storm coming. To this very day, I still "keep my eyes on the trees."
This evening I was watching as usual. One of these storms was nearby and I watched the familiar sight of the trees and thought we had a good one coming... some thunder and a tiny bit of lightning, but to my disappointment the storm did not hit us.
So is this thing about the leaves true? There was a storm, but it did not hit where I was, so should the leaves have turned?
Handing Down the Chores...
When I was a kid I would watch my Dad mow the yard at our farm and think it would be so cool to ride on the tractor and mow the yard. My father told me that, if I mowed the entire yard with the push mower, he would teach me how to drive the ride-on. After a few days of mowing, I finished almost all of the yard (mind you, I was about five, if memory serves, and the yard was 3 acres or so). But my Dad decided that was enough and started to teach me how to use the tractor so that I could actually mow faster than the grass grew.
I thought I was so cool out there, mowing the grass like Dad. And then we moved into town... so much for the riding mower that spoiled me so much. It was all push mower and then I hated to mow the yard from that point forward. To this day, I hate yard work. I would rather have a few goats and move them around to mow the yard off, but unfortunately I live in town and don't have that option.
Recently, I've been borrowing a mower from a good friend for the fact that our electric bill is more important than buying a mower right now. So the other day I convinced my son that he wanted to go get the mower with me and tag along with me for the day. We had some different conversations about things he would like to do and stuff that 7 year olds think about, like the latest video games... ya know, the important stuff.
We made it home with the mower, and Damon wanted to help mow the yard. I went through and mowed the rough spots and decided what the heck... it's time for him to learn this evil chore. He mowed the whole back yard by himself and was very proud!
The funny part is that, even though I was more than happy not to have to mow the yard... even more than that, I was also a proud father. My son is growing up and learning to do grown-up things, so I must be doing something right!
But my final thoughts were about my dad and the day he saw me growing up, mowing the yard. What was he thinking about? Then I wondered: have I made my dad proud at this point in my life?
Friday, July 18, 2008
GUEST BLOG!!!!!
I started to make this post the day after I was tagged by one of my wife's dear friends. As I tried to remember the story the way it was told to me, it occured to me that there was only one person who could do this properly: my MOM. So, let me intoduce Mom (I promised that her version of the story would not be edited in any way... these are her words, her way)...
I think Nick actually was a little over three years old when he had this experience. Not that it makes much difference. It was the spring before we moved into the farm house in October of 1980. The reason I remember is that it wasn't long after Nick's adventure that we found out Missy, born in 1981, was on the way. Here's the story from my point of view.
_______________________________________________________
We lived on a 50 acre farm when Nick was little, about a third of a mile down a little dirt lane from the main highway. It was a beautiful setting. A steep wooded hill stood as a backdrop for the farm, and, below the barn, cornfields lay like quilted patches, stitched between a winding creek and the dirt lane.
It had been a very long winter, and since we lived in a mobile home as we awaited purchase of the farm house, everyone was feeling a little cramped. It was one of the first warmer days in the spring. The grass was just beginning to green up a bit. A slight mist arose from the surrounding hills, signaling the spring meeting of warmer air and winter's chilled earth.
It seemed like a perfect day to let Nick explore the front yard all on his own.
Now, anyone who knows Nick very well will understand how significant it is if I say that from the time the child could deliberately grasp anything, he held a Matchbox vehicle in his hand. As he grew, so did the size of preferred vehicles. So, by the time he was three or so, he preferred a BIG WHEEL. I don't know if that's the correct name, but that was Nick's name for the contraption. It was one of those low-riding blue and orange plastic trikes, with a huge front wheel and handlebars that protruded over the top. I'm thinking there were many parents from the late 1970s who cursed the darn things.
Yes, a perfect day to let Nick explore the front yard all on his own. I had a perfect view of the yard. Could wash dishes, glance out a window to the yard. Check on Nick. Dart out the front door if necessary to rein him in. I was sort of getting the hang of the parenting thing, confident in my ability to multi-task.
'Cept I forgot about the BIG WHEEL, tucked out of sight by the corner of a garage. The BIG WHEEL ... a three-year old's ticket to freedom, to vast worlds unexplored, to mud puddles, which, when connected like dots, led down the country lane to the main highway.
As surely as I type this, I say I washed a dish, looked out to confirm Nick's whereabouts, washed another dish, looked out the window. No Nick. Dashed to the door, yelled his name. No Nick. I yelled again. "Nick!!" (Does it sound the same when Erin yells it?) Still no little figure appeared from anywhere. I went to the coat closet to pull out some boots, and just as I struggled with the second boot, raising my head to push open the door and blow outside all in one motion ... a sheriff's patrol car emerged over the little rise by the garage.
Now, I'm not sure of the distance from the house to the garage, but it was a nice little stroll. Nevertheless, I clearly could see two things. First, there was a BIG WHEEL in the trunk of the patrol car. Then, there was Nick, plastered in mud. Or, I should say, Nick's huge eyes looking out over the back seat of a patrol car (you know, from the place where handcuffed prisoners are seated?), framed on the bottom by his mammoth grin.
The Deputy who returned my little one was gracious enough. "Ma'am, is this your son?" he asked.
"Uhhh, I ... gbleeee, gblaaah." My tongue seemed to stick on my lower lip as I awkwardly gestured toward the one boot, still partly dangling from my foot. Perhaps as an experienced professional, he recognized the seizure-like spasms of a young mother who couldn't mouth any reasonable explanation for a purely poor demonstration of parenting skills.
Or maybe, just maybe, he felt sorry for Nick, whose BIG WHEEL turned out to be one of the first plastic recyclables.
I love you, Nick. Thanks for making it through with me.
As I stated before, this is the story from Mom's point of view. There is only one part of that day that I can remember: while I was headed out "the little dirt lane," the mud puddles were just way too enticing... so I rode into them like a powerful 4wd truck going through a huge mudhole. When I talked to my Mom about doing this, she asked me if there was any part that I remember about that story... and in my memories of my life, I believe that one certain mud puddle is my first "real" memory.
My Mom and I have been through a lot over the years, and there are things that I regret saying about her (things that at a younger age, I made up -- i.e., I lied -- and I'm deeply sorry that I did). Today, Mom and I get along fine, and I would help her with anything at anytime, at the drop of a hat (after all, she is the reason I'm here).
So Mom, when you read this all put together, this is for you:
I know that I was never really kind when I was young;
but please know that I appreciate everything now.
As a parent I now understand all the things you tried;
and now it seems so clear that all you ever did was love me.
Thank you, Mom, for all you have done and the support you continue to give me!
I think Nick actually was a little over three years old when he had this experience. Not that it makes much difference. It was the spring before we moved into the farm house in October of 1980. The reason I remember is that it wasn't long after Nick's adventure that we found out Missy, born in 1981, was on the way. Here's the story from my point of view.
_______________________________________________________
We lived on a 50 acre farm when Nick was little, about a third of a mile down a little dirt lane from the main highway. It was a beautiful setting. A steep wooded hill stood as a backdrop for the farm, and, below the barn, cornfields lay like quilted patches, stitched between a winding creek and the dirt lane.
It had been a very long winter, and since we lived in a mobile home as we awaited purchase of the farm house, everyone was feeling a little cramped. It was one of the first warmer days in the spring. The grass was just beginning to green up a bit. A slight mist arose from the surrounding hills, signaling the spring meeting of warmer air and winter's chilled earth.
It seemed like a perfect day to let Nick explore the front yard all on his own.
Now, anyone who knows Nick very well will understand how significant it is if I say that from the time the child could deliberately grasp anything, he held a Matchbox vehicle in his hand. As he grew, so did the size of preferred vehicles. So, by the time he was three or so, he preferred a BIG WHEEL. I don't know if that's the correct name, but that was Nick's name for the contraption. It was one of those low-riding blue and orange plastic trikes, with a huge front wheel and handlebars that protruded over the top. I'm thinking there were many parents from the late 1970s who cursed the darn things.
Yes, a perfect day to let Nick explore the front yard all on his own. I had a perfect view of the yard. Could wash dishes, glance out a window to the yard. Check on Nick. Dart out the front door if necessary to rein him in. I was sort of getting the hang of the parenting thing, confident in my ability to multi-task.
'Cept I forgot about the BIG WHEEL, tucked out of sight by the corner of a garage. The BIG WHEEL ... a three-year old's ticket to freedom, to vast worlds unexplored, to mud puddles, which, when connected like dots, led down the country lane to the main highway.
As surely as I type this, I say I washed a dish, looked out to confirm Nick's whereabouts, washed another dish, looked out the window. No Nick. Dashed to the door, yelled his name. No Nick. I yelled again. "Nick!!" (Does it sound the same when Erin yells it?) Still no little figure appeared from anywhere. I went to the coat closet to pull out some boots, and just as I struggled with the second boot, raising my head to push open the door and blow outside all in one motion ... a sheriff's patrol car emerged over the little rise by the garage.
Now, I'm not sure of the distance from the house to the garage, but it was a nice little stroll. Nevertheless, I clearly could see two things. First, there was a BIG WHEEL in the trunk of the patrol car. Then, there was Nick, plastered in mud. Or, I should say, Nick's huge eyes looking out over the back seat of a patrol car (you know, from the place where handcuffed prisoners are seated?), framed on the bottom by his mammoth grin.
The Deputy who returned my little one was gracious enough. "Ma'am, is this your son?" he asked.
"Uhhh, I ... gbleeee, gblaaah." My tongue seemed to stick on my lower lip as I awkwardly gestured toward the one boot, still partly dangling from my foot. Perhaps as an experienced professional, he recognized the seizure-like spasms of a young mother who couldn't mouth any reasonable explanation for a purely poor demonstration of parenting skills.
Or maybe, just maybe, he felt sorry for Nick, whose BIG WHEEL turned out to be one of the first plastic recyclables.
I love you, Nick. Thanks for making it through with me.
As I stated before, this is the story from Mom's point of view. There is only one part of that day that I can remember: while I was headed out "the little dirt lane," the mud puddles were just way too enticing... so I rode into them like a powerful 4wd truck going through a huge mudhole. When I talked to my Mom about doing this, she asked me if there was any part that I remember about that story... and in my memories of my life, I believe that one certain mud puddle is my first "real" memory.
My Mom and I have been through a lot over the years, and there are things that I regret saying about her (things that at a younger age, I made up -- i.e., I lied -- and I'm deeply sorry that I did). Today, Mom and I get along fine, and I would help her with anything at anytime, at the drop of a hat (after all, she is the reason I'm here).
So Mom, when you read this all put together, this is for you:
I know that I was never really kind when I was young;
but please know that I appreciate everything now.
As a parent I now understand all the things you tried;
and now it seems so clear that all you ever did was love me.
Thank you, Mom, for all you have done and the support you continue to give me!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Working on a New Plan of Attack...
It is time for me to come up with another special night for my beautiful wife. Now, I know she will be reading this, too, but I'm just searching for ideas right now. I've conjured up a few in my head... like spreading rose pettles all over the bed or trying to find somewhere we could take a dance lesson (considering I have about 6 left feet that have no coordination that might not work as well as I would hope, though).
I'm not asking for anyone to tell me exactly what to do, but I would like to hear some of the things that you all can think of that would be romantic. (Anyone that does not want their name associated with a comment is still welcome to leave one anonymously.)
I'm thinking that I can take into consideration all of the ideas you give me and then make the night my way. Even though Erin will know something is coming, she'll have no idea when or what is going to happen.
Afterward, I'll post and let you know what happened (minus the private stuff!). Knowing that, at this point, most of my readers are women (because my wife recruited all of her friends), I'm sure that you can come up with some romantic fantasies to share and help me create a nice, romantic evening for her.
I'm not asking for anyone to tell me exactly what to do, but I would like to hear some of the things that you all can think of that would be romantic. (Anyone that does not want their name associated with a comment is still welcome to leave one anonymously.)
I'm thinking that I can take into consideration all of the ideas you give me and then make the night my way. Even though Erin will know something is coming, she'll have no idea when or what is going to happen.
Afterward, I'll post and let you know what happened (minus the private stuff!). Knowing that, at this point, most of my readers are women (because my wife recruited all of her friends), I'm sure that you can come up with some romantic fantasies to share and help me create a nice, romantic evening for her.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
OHHHH NOOOO!
I've been tagged by Trish... so I have to post six random things about myself. I've been thinking about this one all evening and have not come up with much, so I'm gonna ramble through this and see how it goes.
1. I would love to be a farmer. Ya know, cows and fields and horses and shit (literally, shit!). Yes, I am a proud REDNECK!
2. I had my first run-in with the police at the age of 2. That's another story for another time...
3. I was born in Key West, FL. Even though I was born by the beach and have lived by the beach, "I HATE the beach!" (I can't stand having sand around my feet.)
4. I'm BALD, at the age of 31; is that even supposed to happen?
5. I have three children. Most of you (if you're either related to us or read my wife's blog) already know Damon and Avery. But they also have an older sister, Molly. Again, another story for another time...
6. I, the quiet one (I really don't talk a lot outside of my little home), have won national awards for public speaking.
Well, hopefully those are six things about me that most of you had no clue about. I'm sure that you're gonna have questions about some of those, so we'll see where that leads for later posts.
I'm supposed to tag 6 others for this, too... but I don't know many bloggers who haven't been tagged already in this round. If you're reading, have a blog, and haven't been tagged yet... you're it! One of these days, I'll have some extra time to find more blogs to read and enjoy, but right now it's a small world.
Here are the rules :
- Link to the person who tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Write six random things about yourself.
- Tag six people at the end of your post.
- Let each person know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
- Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
1. I would love to be a farmer. Ya know, cows and fields and horses and shit (literally, shit!). Yes, I am a proud REDNECK!
2. I had my first run-in with the police at the age of 2. That's another story for another time...
3. I was born in Key West, FL. Even though I was born by the beach and have lived by the beach, "I HATE the beach!" (I can't stand having sand around my feet.)
4. I'm BALD, at the age of 31; is that even supposed to happen?
5. I have three children. Most of you (if you're either related to us or read my wife's blog) already know Damon and Avery. But they also have an older sister, Molly. Again, another story for another time...
6. I, the quiet one (I really don't talk a lot outside of my little home), have won national awards for public speaking.
Well, hopefully those are six things about me that most of you had no clue about. I'm sure that you're gonna have questions about some of those, so we'll see where that leads for later posts.
I'm supposed to tag 6 others for this, too... but I don't know many bloggers who haven't been tagged already in this round. If you're reading, have a blog, and haven't been tagged yet... you're it! One of these days, I'll have some extra time to find more blogs to read and enjoy, but right now it's a small world.
Here are the rules :
- Link to the person who tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Write six random things about yourself.
- Tag six people at the end of your post.
- Let each person know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
- Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Holy Crap!
I get home and I'm sitting on the front porch relaxing after a hard day at work (Hard day at work... sure sounds good right? LOL). So, anyway, I'm drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette, relaxing. Then, my beautiful wife comes out to join me and says that I need to check my blog. I immediately ask, "What did you do??" (She wouldn't tell.)
I finished my smoke quickly so I could get on the computer and check to see what the fuss was about... and HOLY CRAP, people have found me! I'm not used to seeing anyone comment or even know this thing is around. A few of your comments made me giggle like a kid... so I figured I'd respond to them here (thanks for giving me something to blog about today!):
Keep in mind, these are the thoughts of a stupid man... [with a little input/editorial decision making from Beautiful (ha!) Wife!]
I finished my smoke quickly so I could get on the computer and check to see what the fuss was about... and HOLY CRAP, people have found me! I'm not used to seeing anyone comment or even know this thing is around. A few of your comments made me giggle like a kid... so I figured I'd respond to them here (thanks for giving me something to blog about today!):
Keep in mind, these are the thoughts of a stupid man... [with a little input/editorial decision making from Beautiful (ha!) Wife!]
Carrie asked about freebies from work... There are lots of things that the corporate office gives out, supposedly; I'm not sure about the specifics, but I do get some of my favorite beer at cost! (What's Tim's fave??)
Conundrums for Penny: [Hi! Beautiful (ha!) Wife here... Penny, I apologize. Nick DID attempt to give (smart-ass) answers to your conundrums, but I simply cannot allow the answers to be published for the public to see. See, Witschey, this is why it's dangerous to have me edit your posts, lol. I swore I wouldn't edit "content," but trust me, it's for the best!!]
And Trish: You are absolutely correct; the thought of what questions you might have for me does scare me (a little! lol), so I would probably be claiming the Fifth.
So, anyway, thank you all for commenting; it was a great surprise to "see" so many people here today. I hope we can continue this fun, and maybe someday I'll have as many readers as all of you, too!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
What Do You Blog About?
I'm off to a slow start with this thing, and I've figured out part of my problem.
As I mentioned previously, my wife blogs a lot! She's able to come up with things all the time, things that happen in our daily lives that I know about but never think to blog about until I read hers, and then say, "I could've done that!"
So this week my goal is to try to pay more attention to all my surroundings, and we'll see if I can beat her to one (wish me luck).
While I'm trying to find something cool to post about, why don't you let me know things you would like to know about me or my life/lifestyle.
As I mentioned previously, my wife blogs a lot! She's able to come up with things all the time, things that happen in our daily lives that I know about but never think to blog about until I read hers, and then say, "I could've done that!"
So this week my goal is to try to pay more attention to all my surroundings, and we'll see if I can beat her to one (wish me luck).
While I'm trying to find something cool to post about, why don't you let me know things you would like to know about me or my life/lifestyle.
The Beer Man
My previous post was about leaving my job, and I found a new one very quickly. (That was a major surprise!)
My new job is a beer delivery guy. It is amazing what a normal job is like. For the majority of my life, I have had jobs that paid on some type of commission base pay, so now I'm not sure what to do with myself.
I get paid by the hour, only work 40 hour weeks, and there is an awesome benefits package with this company.
I know I've only been there for a week, but I really feel content there. I have always had issues with feeling like I don't fit in or I'll never go anywhere (promotions). So far I have a different feeling about this place---they have all made me feel right at home and there are many opportunities depending on what I want to do over the years.
I'll update on this again next weekend!
My new job is a beer delivery guy. It is amazing what a normal job is like. For the majority of my life, I have had jobs that paid on some type of commission base pay, so now I'm not sure what to do with myself.
I get paid by the hour, only work 40 hour weeks, and there is an awesome benefits package with this company.
I know I've only been there for a week, but I really feel content there. I have always had issues with feeling like I don't fit in or I'll never go anywhere (promotions). So far I have a different feeling about this place---they have all made me feel right at home and there are many opportunities depending on what I want to do over the years.
I'll update on this again next weekend!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Another Roller Coaster
Just a week ago I was posting about my frustrations of Pittsburgh, PA, and my job. Well this past Sat., they finally sent me over the edge. No, I didn't run the truck into a store, but let me just lead you up to and through the night in question.
My week started on Tuesday (remember the 6 days on and 2 off). I worked 16 hrs., breaking every log book law that exists. I'm thinking Wednesday is gonna be better right? (Wrong!) I work 17 hrs. breaking all the laws again (these laws are supposed to protect me and you from all the dangers of a driver on the road from having fatigue). Thursday comes and I've had something like 8 maybe 10 hours of sleep all week long, but the good part is my wife is going to ride along with me this night, so I'll have some company anyway. Take a wild guess where they send me? That is correct... Pittsburgh again. That night I pick up my second load and deliver that one, but I'm exhausted so I need to take a nap. I sleep for about an hour and back to the wheel I go, apparently breaking the laws yet again to make it back for a break and more loads.
We're now to Friday night, and my load is not going to pull out until 02:30 a.m. Sat. morning. All day long I'm awake (at the house, during my break) talking to my wife about how I want to leave my job (she wants me to leave, too, but we are worried about finding another one where we live now). I keep asking her what she wants me to do, but she just says, "I don't know," not wanting to make the decision for me. Finally, I doze off around 11:00 p.m. My wife wakes me at 01:30 a.m. and asks what I'm going to do about the job. I said, "I guess I'm going to work."
I get ready and sadly leave my house, to go to hell again (this is what I've been referring to work as for about a month now). I get there and ask about my load. The dispatcher says, "They haven't even started loading the trailer yet." At 07:00 a.m. they come out, beating on the side of the truck because I've fallen asleep on the steering wheel while waiting on the load. I now wake in a stuper trying to rush and hook-up to the trailer and get out of there. It takes me about an hour to get to the store. I back into the dock door and head for the entrance. I wait at least 15 minutes before someone answers, then I'm told I have to wait... they don't have time do take my load at that moment, they have vendors to deal with (I'm the grocery truck, and am supposed to take priority over all others, according to the distribution center). I'm totally pissed off at this point. So, I throw the oh-so-important paperwork in the air and tell the woman, "I'm going to drop the f****** trailer, you deal with it then!"
I go to the truck, send a message over the computer telling the office what I am doing, and that I'm coming back without a trailer so they better find somone to cover the load. I did exactly that, and then I cleaned out my truck (all the crap I've collected in the past year of hell.)
I then went into the office, turned in the keys to the big truck, and told my dispatcher that I was done. At that point, he proceeded to lecture me... told me that I didn't work hard enough for him and that I was not devoted enough to my job. I could tell you more stories about this guy, but I will just say that he obviously doesn't have any family values or much respect for anyone else's. If dedicating the majority of your life to your job is not enough for him, then I truly feel that my "stupid decision" to leave without any clue what I was going to do next was, indeed, the right one.
I went home Saturday morning and told my wife I had quit my job. So for the next two days I tried to figure out what I was going to do. How was I going to support my family? How was I going to pay bills? Where in this area am I gonna find another job? Even with all of those questions, I was still 100% relieved to be away from the job from hell in "the big truck."
But, I didn't have to ask myself those questions for long.
First thing Monday morning, I set out looking for a new job. When I returned home in about 2 hours, I had already found a job. (What a relief!)
I started my new job this morning. For the first time in a very long time, I woke up after a night of restful sleep in MY bed, set out for work at a normal time (08:00 a.m.), and was home from work by 4:30 p.m. this afternoon. I was free to enjoy an evening with my wife and kids. Yes, I believe I made the right "stupid decision" Saturday morning.
My wife wrote her version of this story on her blog yesterday. Click here to read all about it, from her point of view.
My week started on Tuesday (remember the 6 days on and 2 off). I worked 16 hrs., breaking every log book law that exists. I'm thinking Wednesday is gonna be better right? (Wrong!) I work 17 hrs. breaking all the laws again (these laws are supposed to protect me and you from all the dangers of a driver on the road from having fatigue). Thursday comes and I've had something like 8 maybe 10 hours of sleep all week long, but the good part is my wife is going to ride along with me this night, so I'll have some company anyway. Take a wild guess where they send me? That is correct... Pittsburgh again. That night I pick up my second load and deliver that one, but I'm exhausted so I need to take a nap. I sleep for about an hour and back to the wheel I go, apparently breaking the laws yet again to make it back for a break and more loads.
We're now to Friday night, and my load is not going to pull out until 02:30 a.m. Sat. morning. All day long I'm awake (at the house, during my break) talking to my wife about how I want to leave my job (she wants me to leave, too, but we are worried about finding another one where we live now). I keep asking her what she wants me to do, but she just says, "I don't know," not wanting to make the decision for me. Finally, I doze off around 11:00 p.m. My wife wakes me at 01:30 a.m. and asks what I'm going to do about the job. I said, "I guess I'm going to work."
I get ready and sadly leave my house, to go to hell again (this is what I've been referring to work as for about a month now). I get there and ask about my load. The dispatcher says, "They haven't even started loading the trailer yet." At 07:00 a.m. they come out, beating on the side of the truck because I've fallen asleep on the steering wheel while waiting on the load. I now wake in a stuper trying to rush and hook-up to the trailer and get out of there. It takes me about an hour to get to the store. I back into the dock door and head for the entrance. I wait at least 15 minutes before someone answers, then I'm told I have to wait... they don't have time do take my load at that moment, they have vendors to deal with (I'm the grocery truck, and am supposed to take priority over all others, according to the distribution center). I'm totally pissed off at this point. So, I throw the oh-so-important paperwork in the air and tell the woman, "I'm going to drop the f****** trailer, you deal with it then!"
I go to the truck, send a message over the computer telling the office what I am doing, and that I'm coming back without a trailer so they better find somone to cover the load. I did exactly that, and then I cleaned out my truck (all the crap I've collected in the past year of hell.)
I then went into the office, turned in the keys to the big truck, and told my dispatcher that I was done. At that point, he proceeded to lecture me... told me that I didn't work hard enough for him and that I was not devoted enough to my job. I could tell you more stories about this guy, but I will just say that he obviously doesn't have any family values or much respect for anyone else's. If dedicating the majority of your life to your job is not enough for him, then I truly feel that my "stupid decision" to leave without any clue what I was going to do next was, indeed, the right one.
I went home Saturday morning and told my wife I had quit my job. So for the next two days I tried to figure out what I was going to do. How was I going to support my family? How was I going to pay bills? Where in this area am I gonna find another job? Even with all of those questions, I was still 100% relieved to be away from the job from hell in "the big truck."
But, I didn't have to ask myself those questions for long.
First thing Monday morning, I set out looking for a new job. When I returned home in about 2 hours, I had already found a job. (What a relief!)
I started my new job this morning. For the first time in a very long time, I woke up after a night of restful sleep in MY bed, set out for work at a normal time (08:00 a.m.), and was home from work by 4:30 p.m. this afternoon. I was free to enjoy an evening with my wife and kids. Yes, I believe I made the right "stupid decision" Saturday morning.
My wife wrote her version of this story on her blog yesterday. Click here to read all about it, from her point of view.
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