CHAPTER 28
(My Turn To Interrupt Mr. Paul's Sandwich Break)
June 19th, 2018
I've NEVER had my patience tested like this. In fact, just three days ago the Marion County Indiana police department instructed me to quit my job. In my delusional mind the phalanx of Celadon witches were going through GREAT lengths to oust me. Not only were these unlimited wardrobe witches trying their darnedest to push me off the island they were using Paul as a disposable pawn in their sinister little chess game. Today I was supposed to have my meeting with the company's operations manager. None other than Mr. Paul.
Palsied hand Paul that was deftly skilled at talking a tough game over the phone but the toughness always dissipated into thin air when you were tangibly standing abreast of him. Four years has passed since he interrupted my Wendy's sandwich break I took in Dirty Jersey. I have forgiven since then but even forgiving doesn't require one to forget.
I sat in my freshly repaired rig and contemplated some things in my mind. I was doing a WHOLE LOT of retrospect and using my photographic memory to replay what had just happened to me in an entire week's time of not moving. True my tractor hadn't moved in a week but I had FINALLY launched one foot forward into exposing myself as the next Chelsea Manning. I had no intentions of getting a sex change but after my experience at the Greene Turtle I was convinced that an esoteric crowd of curious college students was FINALLY figuring out that "Dirty Bird" was more than a fictional character in a comic book. Dirty Bird was real. Dirty Bird was unique from all the other villains that had made a name for themselves. And how was Dirty Bird so different? Dirty Bird hated human beings period. Dirty Bird was not capable of confiding in humans. In fact, the only creature that knew of all Dirty Bird's secrets was a tiny lovable Pug-a-poo dog.
Rumor had it that when Dirty Bird was abducted by Federal Marshians in 2005 from his abode he had left behind some serious daunting vibes. No fireballs, no flying cape or any other useful superpowers. Just straight up death vibes. Dirty Bird could frighten a gaily crowd simply by exuding vibes of pure foreboding imminent death. Vibes of terror that could silence an entire room. But people fought back by goading.
Thermostats got turned up. Out of Order signs got taped up as well. And yes salad dressings purposely got forgotten by the chef. So what had happened at the Green Turtle in Aberdeen MD? Who was controlling the TV remotes?
Despite being out of work for an entire week due to an ironic breakdown on the Baltimore beltway I knew I was in for a shitty paycheck next week. I made sure to file an online complaint with OSHA as I felt Celadon had crossed a fine line by remotely shutting my tractor off while my tractor was in operation on a very busy beltway in Baltimore. I hadn't had a rush like that since my mountain escape ramp incident in 2014. To make matters worse I was hauling over 40,000lbs of oil for BP. And the pranksters at Celadon had the nerve to cut my power steering?
I knew the breakdown was faux and I knew the manager at Hickory International was piecing everything together. He was waffling quite a bit as to whether or not the repair bill would be covered by contract because I think he knew there was some serious foul play involved. Foul play involved on EVERYBODY's Part. Everybody EXCEPT me. Prior to the breakdown I was sure to report via Qualcomm the eerie morning I had at Trail Side Truck Stop in East Earl where I had parked for my home time. The spare key I never use had been left in the ignition while I was at the beach on a family vacation. The APU had been left on which I NEVER leave on. But what was most weird about June 13th? The EVER SO LONG line at the counter nobody ever uses in the back for my load bar purchases at the butt crack of dawn. The whole morning experience felt like a scene in a Matrix movie. Not only was the morning cashier check out line long but impromptu as well. And did any of the purchases make any sense? Of course not. I'm sure after I left things miraculously got returned onto the shelves. I would guess that these impromptu "mystery shoppers" might just be part of the very same group responsible for posting the sign outside of Ewell's Trucking that said "In his defense we left him unsupervised" or had something to do with the comment repeatedly made over the air by 105.7 "The X" saying "If it were up to us we'd yank the wheels off him" while I was in between jobs. For a guy without any friends I had proven time and time again to be gaining some momentum popularity from my Dirty Bird trilogy books I wrote on the side. I make sure to change the pen names to keep things a mystery and not all of my work is available to the public. Does James Patterson have these very same troubles? What about the other action crime writers?
Mr. Paul himself had set up this June 19th meeting weeks ago so we could finally settle these piling up pay disputes now reaching into the four digits. It is passed my two week notice I gave in late May and I have already set up employment with Big G Express trucking. Lisa Garret from the Big G has already cleared me for hire and ran all my DAC reports which look good. I'm really exuding a lot of patience by giving Celadon ample opportunity to get caught up on owed wages. I'm EXTREMELY upset because one of the mechanics at Hickory International has already spilled the beans that my truck was in fact repaired June 15th and the garage had even called Celadon the next day to remind them. So why had I been sitting a week? Was this why the Red Roof kicked me out of their "Overbooked" hotel Saturday morning? Was the hotel in on it too? Was that why soccer moms were plopping up lawn chairs outside of my hotel room Saturday morning which seemed unusual? Was that why I suspected my personal property had been tinkered with? Was that why a Red Roof worker named Angel was giving me funny looks like he knew something was up?
MEANWHILE LUNCH TIME
I was extremely pissed by all the intentional stonewalling. Evidently my auditing of my paychecks had caused the Celadon witches to cast an exorbitant amount of spells on me. I had to pay for taxis and book my own hotel for the weekend as Celadon let my balloon texts pile up over the weekend. The truck was broke down. Therefore I was of no use to them when the truck isn't making any money. So who was always remotely shutting my tractor off? How could I possibly catch the button pusher red handed?
My stomach growled as I sat in my newly repaired rig patiently waiting for Celadon to find me an empty trailer so I could pick up a load somewhere. This was all bullshit. I could be making $1,200.00 a week with Big G and Celadon is keeping me running past my two week notice. I can't abandoned the truck because it will ruin my career and they can legally tack on a truck abandonment fee which can go as high as $1,000.00.
These people are becoming real assholes all because they know my meeting with Paul is about owed money. Hasn't this company been sued many times in the past for their unscrupulousness? Do they not know that I know their history? Was it their shady past that made me eligible for hire in the first place as someone in there thought we were a match because we BOTH can't pass a background check? Where the hell is Mr. Paul?
My stomach growled and growled. I really needed a load so I could get lunch somewhere. Speaking of lunch. Was Mr. Paul getting his sandwich break and that's why he is refusing my Skype meeting I spent $2.99 to plan today by downloading the ap? Did he not want me to see that sand which?
I had had enough of the stonewalling. It was irking me to no end knowing that Mr. Paul himself was ignoring me all day and probably sitting back in that easy chair eating a nice hot sandwich from Wendy's . Probably even the Triple Decker.
I posted a text via Qualcomm.
"Will somebody please tell Paul to put it away and pick up the phone!"
That seemed to do the trick. Exclamation points are the only way to get people's attention these days. I learned that trick after reading the federal indictment that a court lady typed up after I refused to leave Flagger Force without my paychecks owed to me. I had concluded the indictment was drummed up after interviews with my parole officer and my brother. I concluded that by the opening terminology utilized in the indictment. Mr.Steidler has a bad attitude.....
My little brother plays that "attitude" card more than any other card. Why he had anything to do with my arrest was beyond me but I knew he was quite envious of that big carrot the Obama campaigns dangled in front of me after that motorcycle accident. After my arrest my parole officer had left a nasty voicemail on my parents answering machine stating that the government was giving me "too much goodies" and that's why I was making a big fuss about Flagger Force straight up robbing me?
Literally about ten seconds after I Qualcommed "Will somebody please tell Paul to put it away and pick up the phone" Mr. Paul himself called me on my personal cellphone.
"Bob what's going on out there Bob?"
"We were supposed to have our meeting today. I've been stonewalled since Saturday afternoon and as a result have blisters the size of pancakes on my foot."
"I told you already that Celadon pays HouseHolds Goods Miles."
"I realize that now but I don't think you understand. Somebody is running a scam ON TOP of that scam we need to have this meeting. We're well past my two week notice and I already have another job lined up."
Paul grew furious. "Bob LISTEN to me. The meeting is NOT going to happen today obviously. I need you get this load first and then I can route you back to Indy for our meeting. Would you like me in the meantime to send you the spreadsheet?"
I chuckled. Oh here comes the bullshit. Can I even believe a word this guy says? Will this "spreadsheet" even be accurate?
"Yes sure. Please email me the spreadsheet so our meeting will go faster. You did receive my PDF file ascertaining my employment history didn't you?"
"Yes Bob. I calculated thirty nine months of employment history so that extra pay will reflect on next weeks paycheck."
Paul always knew to call me "Bob". My dispatcher Kathy always knew to call me "Bob" and so did my previous dispatcher from the Kochy Monster in MN.
And why did I always insist that every Starbucks and Arbys Restaurant type in "B-O-B"?
Because on 5-04-2017 I PAID Lancaster County Courthouse nearly $200.00 to be just that!
BOB!!!!!!!!