Week 12: A Smoke Tarp, The Broken Yolk, and Jack Daniels: Part 3

When we got to our customer in Conway, I used my trusty roll of duct tape to repair my tarp. On the way to Holiday, the wind ripped a 3-foot gash in the seam. It had not, after all, been designed for use as a smoke tarp.


As it turned out, I had plenty of time to make the repair. I waited for over three hours to be unloaded. It was now 2pm on Friday, and I was 400 miles from home. Once again, it would be Saturday before I got home. I did not have the hours to drive 400 additional miles today. So, when dispatch sent me a load assignment that would send me even farther away, something just snapped!

I was dirty, tired, hungry, and furious when I called my terminal manager in Bridgeport.

“We’ll pay you $75 for a weekend layover”, he offered.

I can’t recall, specifically, if I told him where he could stick his 75 bucks, but I have no doubt that he discerned my meaning.

“If you go home, we’ll charge you for the fuel”, he threatened.

“If you want to screw me out of my last paycheck”, I replied, “go ahead… but this isn’t what I signed on for—I’m going home!”

With that, I hung up and set out for Bridgeport.

I had driven for about a hundred miles when my phone rang—it was my terminal manager again.

“There’s a load you can pick up in Bowman, South Carolina and bring it to Atlanta before you go home”, he said.

“I’m almost 200 miles east of there”, I replied. “I don’t have enough hours left to do that and, even if I did, I’ve already told you what I’m doing”.

“You’ll be charged for the fuel”, he repeated.

“I’ll talk to you on Monday”, I said… and hung up the phone.

I pulled into a truck stop shortly thereafter because I was too tired and too upset to keep going. When I’d had time to cool off, I reflected on the events that had just taken place, and wondered whether I had allowed my fatigue and emotions to produce a "knee-jerk" reaction that had led to a bad decision. I was torn about what I had done, and about what I was going to do next.

It had not sounded like I was going to be fired—just screwed out of my paycheck. My thoughts were tumbling viciously in my mind, and my world seemed surreal. I had serious reservations about quitting now, but I did not relish the thought of crawling back with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t sure of anything right now save for one thing: I was certain that I wanted to go home tomorrow and purchase a bottle of Jack Daniels