CHAPTER 16
(Haunted By Dickey)
When I realized ALL the sticky noodles I was throwing against the wall had a history of dropping to the floor I knew it was time to get creative. It was time to put my convict "con man" skills to use if I wanted a job. Surely all those years behind bars I would have learned a thing or two from watching the creative behavior from other inmates. It was time for me to "Fake It Until You Make It."
I came up with a brilliant job searching strategy all on my own. Why not fool the recruiter into believing that I had a lot of other trucking companies within a hairs breadth of hiring me? Why not fool one of these recruiters into purchasing me a bus ticket to one of their orientations by putting some pressure on them. It seemed like there were literally thousands of other trucking companies so why not sucker one of those dumb southern trucking companies into believing they should hurry up with hiring me as there might be another company out there serious about hiring me? And that's just what I did. I ended up using CRST trucking company as a patsy to sucker Paschall Truck Lines into purchasing me a bus ticket out to Paducah KY.
Dan was such a sucker. "I just gotta run a few more things by my boss before I can clear you to come out here for our orientation on Monday. I'm crossing my fingers but I think it should go through."
I smiled demurely through the phone. I had potential to sound professional on the phone as the other person on the other end had no way of watching my facial expressions from 600 miles away.
"Well I really need something to shake sooner than that. CRST is supposed to call me back tomorrow. They sound very interested. They like my impeccable driving history."
I could hear Dan's tension on the other end. He didn't like the thought of knowing all the paperwork he had done so far might all just be in vain.
"Well, I can definitely let you know by lunch time tomorrow." He said.
I countered. I knew I had to put pressure on Dan before a Mrs. walked by and discovered the huge can of worms I was hiding. Women were gossipy and for kicks and giggles she might just opt to open the whole can right in front of the whole dispatching team.
"But I ALREADY told you! CRST is calling me tomorrow morning and they'll probably have a bus ticket ordered for me by then!"
Those southern folk were such gullible suckers and I knew it. In fact it gets so dumb as you go south that academic credentials aren't even required to become an attorney in the state of Virginia. Just pass that stupid bar exam and you're in. And the other thing I had going for me? The name Blake was not only liked down south but very popular as well. I knew as long as I didn't act incredibly stupid, nobody would take the time to dig on me. I had no tattoos showing which also gave me points as well. I knew my odds were good I could stay off their radar.
There was a little hemming and hawing from Dan before he finally spoke. I knew I was putting the pressure on.
"Well, we'd really like to hire ya. I'll tell ya what. Can ya give me just three hours?"
I played Dan even more.
"Oh crap! Now I got another call coming in from a different company. Can you hold on Dan?"
I knew my strategy was going to work. Trucking companies hired ALL the time. The Ding Dong story was old news and I was already getting letters from Philly asking me to join in on class action lawsuits for these discrimination games these employers were playing when they knew I was eligible for hire because of my spotless driving record.
"Three hours Blake. I'll get that bus ticket in your email in three hours. Do we have a deal?"
I was on fire right now. The throwing noodles against the wall was a good job searching strategy but my Bull shitting was reflecting me as the REAL BILLY BIG RIGGER. I was learning real quickly from watching the other toothless weirdos and their TRUMPED UP stories they embellished that they experienced from over the road.
"Okay Dan sounds good. I'll be looking for it."
"Okay great. Hope to see you in Kentucky on Monday."
Sucker I thought to myself.
FIVE DAYS LATER
The orientation was a breeze. The company really liked the fact that I could drive stick as automatic trucks were becoming popular within newly hired drivers fresh out of trucking school. The company even had its own magazine with its own hall of shame in the back of it showing the bills drivers had left behind from their screw ups over the road. I got a really hot blond dispatcher named Stacy that could read both my personality and work record like a book. But things weren't going to last forever the way I expected in there. Every few months the company liked to switch dispatchers on us. I had a new dispatcher now.
She was also younger than me and looked cute with those braces I saw her wearing on the magazine. I'll never forget how amusing it was when she introduced herself as my new dispatcher over the phone. I knew we would never meet in person but I'll never forget just how funny our introduction was.
The company had hundreds of drivers in there but somehow Andrea knew just who I was.
I called in on the very first day as her being my dispatcher needing something. I was used to giving out my truck number to better identify myself.
"This is truck number 942117 driver Stibla (my driver code)."
I was speaking with Andrea for the very first time. With those braces and her sophisticated look I was sure she was only doing this job in between college semesters.
She cut me off before I could continue with my actual name. They had hundreds of drivers to deal with and often forgot who was who.
"I know who YOU ARE!" Said Andrea.
I could hear hysterical 20s laughter in the background from all her coworkers. I was utterly confused as I was quite certain nobody knew a thing about me. So why did she say it like I was talked about ALL the time in there? I knew I hadn't ever gotten caught making U-Turns in any attorneys back yards (they could afford the biggest back yards) and I was quite certain I opted not to take my Trucker Cycle through the drive thru at Wells Fargo so how did Andrea know me so well?
Somebody in the background shouted some kind of funny that I don't recall but it didn't seem to phase me. It did kind of remind me of the young giggly crowd at Celadon finding it amusing that things didn't go so well trying to get down that mountain. These were merely young adolescent kids in my mind and it was better for me to believe they were laughing "with" me and not "at" me.
I continued. "I don't have enough hours on my clock to deliver this load on time you want me to pick up."
Andrea was a bit frustrated. She liked to run her drivers hard. Real hard.
"But you have enough time to at least go pick it up?"
"Yes." I replied.
"Well go pick it up then. As far as making on time delivery we'll worry about that bridge when we cross it."
I didn't realize it at the time but Andrea was in fact correct. I was just to inexperienced enough to realize how to properly read my Qualcomm hours as I was indeed picking up the additional hours I needed the next day. I don't like to be rushed but I did as I was told. Within two hours of driving my stress was weighing in. I was being plagued by an external force from behind the walls of a mental institution I was just released from only months ago. I was being plagued by the voice of Dickey!
It wasn't actually "Dickey's" voice that haunted me during those lonely stressed out days behind the wheel but rather "Dickey's" name being shout out over and over by the nurses at the mental Institution. Those southern nurses always had fun saying his name with that southern drawl they always had. I was always jealous by how much attention they gave Dickey like he was some big celebrity in there just for having a phallic sounding name. And the nurses had a good time with it every time they saw that lanky old man walk down the hallway.
"Hi Dickey!" They always said with such excitement. Even to this day I could imitate it so well with the way they always said it. The entire year I worked at PTL I'll bet I randomly shouted out "Hi Dickey at least three times a day. There was just simply no way to get those horrible memories eradicated from my mind. I've never seen an old chap do much crazy card leg work for some section 8 housing in my life. With the energy he had with driving the nurses crazy I couldn't understand why he couldn't re-route all those "bounces" into some job searching because even I couldn't possibly have the energy to malinger like Dickey.
I pulled into a truck stop in Louisiana for some dinner to ease my nerves. I have always found that my stress level goes way down after eating a proper meal. I'm quite certain that by the time I hit 40 I will most likely be facing diabetes as it runs in my genes. It's an easy one for me to back in and as I set my airbags I notice a green tractor trailer also park right beside me. A young guy looking my very same age climbs out of the green tractor with a cute little chubby girl holding an infant in her arms. I mean no disrespect when I say "a cute little chubby girl" as I'm simply referring to someone most likely not on the field hockey team not to be confused with the really big girls that are a size away from a lifetime membership at the Big and Tall store.
It just so happened that the trio was walking along side of me into the truck stop. They looked like such a beautiful happy little family. I keep forgetting that in my mid thirties I should also have a kid of my own and I am very much running behind in life. I'm hoping that the three of them living in the tractor is only a temporary thing for the couple until they get financially caught up. I've already seen weird stuff in Texas where they stuff an entire family of five in there plus Disabled Grandma in tow. Where they find room to stuff the wheel chair and oxygen tank I really don't know or care to ask. It always reminds me when I see it of a new tv show idea to give Raising Hope or Duck Dynasty a little competition.
There's an eerie silence as I walk with the family into the truck stop. I know I struggle with being sociable but I usually refrain from talking to other drivers. I have found out the hard way numerous times that asking another trucker a simple question can chew up half of your day. And that's not much of an exaggeration. Forget your post trip inspection. Forget your shower. Even take a chance about forgetting your dinner if you opt to make small talk with another Billy Bigrigger. I mean just look at the size of this book so far!
The driver of the green truck finally said something. I liked that he struck me as such a normal guy. No goofy knife hanging from his belt. No stupid Conner Mcgregor pompous walk. And no stupid words written on his ballcap. In fact, he wasn't even wearing a ballcap.
"So how do you like working for PTL?"
I lie ALL the time when people ask me if I like my job. I don't want people figuring out I'm miserable because my psychiatric disorder has me convinced that every human out there is out to get me. So why would I ever give any of my transgressors satisfaction of knowing I'm miserable? And better yet. How would shaming a company ever get me a referral bonus?
"Oh they're pretty good to me. I'm doing pretty good with them."
"Getting many miles?"
I chuckled. Time to lie like the rest of them.
"Oh yeah," I said, "I get my 3,000 miles in every week."
The driver just shook his head. That's when the conversation got funny. And I mean REAL funny.
He continued. "I tried working for them and they sent me on a greyhound bus home!"
I was utterly confused. "You're kidding me! They got guys still working for them that have rung up $12,000.00 bills. You must have one really wild driving record. PTL seems to hire just about anybody."
The driver shook his head. He was a lot shorter than me and I could see the top of his head.
"Wasn't that. My driving record is just fine. Somehow they found out I was in a psyche ward for a few days after a breakup from my ex girlfriend. They said I was ineligible and sent me packing."
I was grinning from ear to ear like a rookie poker player. This was just too funny. Could this normal looking guy be serious? I was just about to tell him the odds were good my psychiatric history was most likely ten times longer than his and almost as long as my incarceration history dating all the way back from the age of 13. I could even recall one of the inmates funnies that he had to say to me right before we lined up to go put in our guilty pleas. It was kind of funny how he said it. "Come on Blake! You're not new to the system. I know this ain't your first rodeo!"
I did all I could to keep a straight face to reply to this young man. I was just about to confess how many times I had been to the Luny bin when I found myself quickly biting my tongue. I wasn't telling this stranger Jack shit.
"Well, my friend, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know they could check mental history. Thought they just check driving history."
The driver just chuckled while he opened the door for his family. "Oh it was no big deal really. A week later I just jumped into a truck of another company like the truck you saw me pulling in. I make even more money with these guys than what PTL was going to pay me anyways."
Success Story! I thought to myself. I just hoped he was saving some of that money for some bigger housing for the family. I sensed he would do okay. Provided of course that his ex didn't take ALL of his money. With all the horror stories out there it was no wonder I never tried to hard to seek dates. Between the first hand experience of the payroll abuse I often encountered and watching other relationships fail I could see why being a recluse might just be a good option for me. Should maybe I just do like this guy did and find myself a cute little chubby one so I'm not stuck with nurses mistakenly calling me Dickey?