It was around noon when I pulled into a large grocery warehouse in Sioux Falls SD with a load of California produce. I parked the truck in front of the main building and checked into the dock foreman's office.
The foreman was having a bad day and seemed annoyed that I was there. He said, "You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow morning. You'll have to wait until I get all these other trucks unloaded before I can get to you. You may have to wait until morning which is when you were supposed to be here anyway."
I was uncharacteristically sanguine about the whole thing because, frankly, I could use the sleep. I went back out to the truck to do a safety check before crawling up into the bunk. I walked around the truck and checked all the tires, springs, and lights. I opened the hood, cleaned the bugs off of the windshield, and checked the oil.
As I was closing the hood, a guy in a suit walked by. He stopped and commented on what a good looking truck I was driving. We talked about the truck for a few minutes and then he asked, "What load do you have for us?" I said, "I have the C.H. Robinson load out of Lodi."
He looked surprised and said, "You're not suppose to be here until tomorrow morning."
"That's what I hear. But I'll tell you what, when I get this truck loaded, I don't fuck around - I get that load delivered!"
He gave me a long look, said nothing, and then walked into the main building. A few minutes later the dock foreman came out. He had a sheepish look on his face and said, "Give me a few minutes to pull that truck out of the first bay and then you can back in there."
"My boss just told me to stop whatever I'm doing and get that Crawford truck unloaded, because that's one driver that doesn't fuck around."
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