We’ve all been there. That ridiculously-hot load from H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks that everyone seems to need hauled, yet nobody seems to want to cooperate or do what’s needed to complete the job. Dispatch will tell you to talk to the broker. The broker tells you to contact the shipper. The shipper doesn’t have all the info, and sends you to the dock foreman, and so on… all you really want to do is quit wasting time and get on down the road. Not to mention the fact that their hot-to-trot shipment is not hot enough to work through a lunch break to get it loaded! These are the woes we face, routinely, as drivers. Especially at some of the larger big-name facilities and the shadier, fly-by-night outfits. In any case, it’s best to keep your cool and take responsibility for whatever it is that you agree to haul. However, in this poem, we indulge in the urge to tell the uncooperative fingers-in-the-pot where to stick it when they can’t seem to get their act together long enough to do what is required to earn their cut. The names in this poem are purely fictitious, and do not refer to anyone I know. But, I call this one, “Good Ol’ Tony” – enjoy!
GOOD OL’ TONY
By Trevor Hardwick
Someone told me, long ago, to never pass the buck,
Always be responsible, for what goes on your truck.
Listen to directions, and double-check your route,
But don’t rely on someone else, to figure something out.
I took a load, a while back, ol’ Tony hooked me up,
Tony said a friend of his, was looking for a truck.
“Call my buddy Bill,” he said, “Bill has lots of freight.
He needs a truck to hurry though, this shipment can’t be late.”
Of course! I thought, and dialed the phone, I told him who I am,
Tony said to talk to Bill, but Bill sent me to Sam.
Sam knew all about the load, the route, the weight and such,
But when I asked about the rate, he didn’t know as much.
Sam said, “Talk to Betty, she’s the one who writes the checks,
But Betty isn’t here today, she isn’t at her desk.”
Betty’s bigger brother, Bob, is better known as Buck,
He’s the one who runs the dock, and he will load the truck.
But Buck had better plans today, than coming here to work,
And God forbid you ask him to, or he might go berserk!
Bob was barking orders, to a lumper known as Lou,
Lou was lifting boxes, stacking pallets, but for who?
All I really needed, was some info for my load,
Coordinates and cash up front, and I will hit the road.
Lou said, “Listen closely Mac,” as if he knew my name,
“Back ‘er up to door 15, then check in with Jermaine.”
I bumped the dock, walked inside, the clock said Five-to-noon,
Jermaine said, “Lunch is noon-to-one, we’ll getcha loaded soon.”
“Look Jermaine,” I thought within, “My name is far from Mac,
And you go tell ol’ Lou I’m gone, and I ain’t comin’ back.”
Lou can cry to brother Bob, the guy you know as Buck,
And Buck can make sure Betty, pays “detention” to my truck.
If Betty’s got a problem, she can take it up with Sam,
Even though I’m sure he’s got, a broken give-a-damn.
But Sam will pass the buck to Bill, and Bill will come unglued,
I can almost hear him shout aloud, “Now we’re really screwed!”
Bill will never understand, he’s working for a phony,
And that’s the last time I’ll agree, to haul a load for Tony!
