We’ve all got customers who are fussy about delivery times.
Too early and they send you away, more than a set amount late and you get parked up in the naughty corner for the rest of the day until they get to you, whenever that may be. We’ve got one who gives out ‘late’ cards to put in your truck‘s windscreen, ensuring you get continually passed over in the queue until before you know it you’ve morphed into the last tip of the day. All well and good, and I suppose we only have ourselves and our fellow drivers to blame for taking such ridiculous liberties with arrival times that they were forced to have a clamp down, but what happens when the real world gets in the way? It all falls apart, of course!
One Monday morning, not long ago, the M62 was to all intents and purposes cancelled. Despite allowing an extra half hour on what is normally a 3 hour run at worst in a lorry, by the time I’d crawled and queued and crawled and queued again past three assorted accidents and breakdowns, I was over an hour late. Such was my lateness; I was half expecting to be knocked back entirely. At the very least I was mentally working out how to spend the next 6 hours waiting for someone to remember I was there.
But no, my luck was in – turned out the vast majority of stuff coming in that morning was fighting across from the same direction, with the result that everything needed squeezing into the naughty corner. Since we were all pitching up in the right order, just not at the right time, they had no option but to start on the late list before their lads spent any longer twiddling their thumbs waiting for someone to show up on time.
That, to my mind, is what you call a result – perhaps we could get the M62 cancelled more often? Ah, hang on…