on driving distractions and the HR philosophy of a global delivery company
Or why we hit things until they behave
We had a rough day at work last week.
It wasn’t the amount of work, nor good or crappy customers that caused our growling.
Instead?
It was a sound - some random noise that the truck was making.
This sound was a sort of tapping, or clicking. Metal on metal?
It’s hard to describe now. It was difficult to describe even then.
What in the name of time is that noise? It’s coming from under your seat.
Ricky was hot and growling.
Naw Ricky, it’s coming from under your seat somewhere.
Ricky shook his head.
No man. It’s you. It’s coming from around you.
Ricky started looking around in the cab of our truck as we hurtled down the road. His edge was putting me on edge too. I had to do something.
I turned my body to the middle of the truck. I closed my eyes and focused.
I’m listening with both ears Ricky. The sound is low. It’s on your side of the truck. I still think -
Ricky stopped me.
Don’t tell me it’s my fucking seat again ok. It’s coming from over by you.
Ricky continued to look around inside the cab as we cascaded down the road. Streets streaked by. Time stood still. And Ricky kept looking.
I’m not a nervous driver.
Nor am I a nervous passenger around Ricky.
Well, that’s true most of the time.
I’m not nervous when Ricky is paying attention and driving. He drives quite well.
But when we’re booting along and he starts looking for creaks and odd noises in the cab? Well, let’s just say that my arse hole gets a bit more tight with every second his eyes are not on the road.
Rick! Bud! Let me find it ok? We’re not going to be able to fix it while we’re underway.
A few moments later the sound was back and louder than ever and Ricky was roaring again.
I’m going to fucking go insane if I have to listen to that all day!
He couldn’t see the sound and he couldn’t see the road. The sound wouldn’t kill us. Oncoming traffic might.
Ricky disagreed.
It happens on bumps. It happens when there aren’t bumps. I think it’s something hanging and swinging and tapping randomly on the underside of the cab.
Even now, with his eyes on the road, Ricky was fully focused on the sound that we couldn’t locate. This was the very same sound that I was attempting to block out, ignore and live with.
I dunno Ricky. I can’t notice it anymore.
This was untrue. I didn’t want to notice it anymore so I decided to treat it like the noise of the internet and ignore it completely.
Buddy, don’t lie to me. How the fuck do you not hear this?
I’m not lying Ricky. It seems to have blended in with the rest of the noises that this ugly fucking shitbox makes constantly. It’s all blending together.
I then did a pantomime of the truck motion - complete with sound effects.
And if you’re onomatopoedic?
You can make your own at home right meow.
With those sounds I had, for just a moment, distracted Rick from the death taps from outside the cab somewhere below us.
I’m going to go batshit and on a killing spree if I have to listen to that all day!
By now, Ricky was almost foaming at the mouth.
Woah, Ricky, don’t let that rage turn into a hostage situation back at work. We don’t need another delivery person ‘going postal’.
Ricky was red with rage.
Fuck off arsehole
He stomped the floor like a sumo.
And then?
A rare moment of Zen.
The sound stopped.
See Ricky? All I had to do was piss you off enough and you’d figure it out. It’s gone.
We had no sooner breathed a second sigh of relief when the sound returned.
Fuck. You jinxed it Jimmy!
Jinxed it? Me? How?
You said it was fixed. As soon as you said that I knew it would come back. That’s how things work around here.
Right.
I’d forgotten the curse of the delivery driver. It’s kinda like Murphy’s Law meets instant karma.
As soon as you say something like It’s been a long time since we’ve driven down that road. You end up going down that road.
Or, if you say something like It’s been a long time since I’ve been bit by a dog. Some fucking little ass licker comes and bites you.
I once saw a delivery driver rocking and chanting It’s been a long time since I won the lottery.
He still works as a delivery driver so I guess this curse has its limits.
The sound continued until we stopped for lunch.
We shook seats. Removed panels. Turned screws. Yanked vents.
None of this helped.
For a full hour after lunch we lived with the sound. Ricky ranted and I tried to ignore and distract.
In some ways, that says a lot about us.
Eventually though?
We hit the rough back roads of the valley and the sound went away for good.
All we had to do was beat the shit out of the truck and ourselves and everything got better eh?
Ricky was right. When anything from our company isn’t working right, give it a beating.
That’s the global delivery org chart in a nutshell buddy.
The annoyance hadn’t survived the rough roads.
We did though.
But by the end of the day I kinda missed the little tapping.
Not because I enjoyed the sound.
I hated it.
But I did enjoy how much it pissed off Ricky. He was the auditory version of the princess and the pea.
And that dear reader?
That was quite hysterical.
Stay sensitive, you trolls!
