CHAPTER 32
(Bob is Blake, Blake is Bob)
September 6th,2018
(01:34pm EST) (Requesting A Continuance)
I stare at the four year weekly net income graph I have hanging on the wall of my apartment. It's living proof that OTR trucking industry is nothing more than one big scam. Not only is it a big scam but it's detrimental to ones health in more ways than you can possibly imagine. Initially when I quit Celadon I almost had a good local job lined up at $20.00 an hour in Honeybrook PA. I was eligible for the job and even got a same day interview. Not only did I get a same day interview the interviewer even allowed me to show that I could park a big rig in dock. I knew this would be a big step forward in life for me and I could finally get my health back like I always had a history of doing.
I had joked once with the girl at the gym I knew since 2009 how it really panned out with truck driving. I still remember vaguely what I had told her after she witnessed me blow through $10,000.00 in a four month period from January 2016 to April 2016 to lose almost fifty pounds.
"It's like a never ending vicious cycle," I had said, "As my wealth goes up my health goes down and as my health goes up my WEALTH goes down! Wealthy and unhealthy or skinny and broke? I'm not sure what's cool these days!"
I knew there was 168 hours in a week. We legally could only log 70 hours a week but in actuality between bill scanning and map studying we probably gave our employers 85 hours a week. That left us with 85 hours a week of free time but not true. I was the REAL Billy Big Rigger and insisted on my 8 hours of sleep a day so that left me with 29 hours of free time a week. But what about eating and showering? An hour to eat meals a day and an hour to tackle the three "S"s (Shit,shower,shave) left us with only 15 hours a week of free time, that's less than two hours and fifteen minutes of free time a day! Was that really supposed to all go towards getting to the gym? How long would it take for transportation to and from the gym? What would the taxi bill look like for that?
I knew I had to figure out how to escape this OTR life but in reality there WAS NONE. I had already made a four year record of OTR professional driving and trucking companies loved to see that. Because of my colorful Male Bomb background it made it virtually impossible to gravitate towards another career. I knew that employers generally like to hire people with experience so how could I get that job as a mechanic? How could I get that job as a pencil pusher where I could finally show off my hundred dollar tie? How could I possibly be the next prison counselor if credentials were needed and there was no door to walk through? I WAS STUCK.
I KNEW MY ONLY WAY OUT OF THIS HELLISH LIFESTYLE WAS TO RELY ON MY SELF TAUGHT SKILLS I LEARNED IN FEDERAL PRISON. I had to score big on a book. With almost ten books already published I knew eventually one of them would net me more than a measly five bucks. I was at a big loss with my book publishing but at least I wasn't a complete moron about it. After spending almost a thousand dollars publishing "Mary's Contractions" with Rose Dog publishing I learned cheaper methods through Amazon.
Eventually I even learned how to cheaply print hard copies without surrendering thousands of dollars. There was LOTS of books out there so how could my Super Man moments be so great that I could believe I'd score a big jackpot?
I sat in my lawn chair in my apartment reading the dispute letter from the Unemployment agency. I had to make a frustrated phone call to the manager just to get them to make a decision as they had left me in purgatory for nearly two months without payments. I thwarted the manager Sarah after I asked her for data to support her intentional delay of nearly two months of stonewalling. She got frustrated and hung up the phone on me. I knew deep inside the payroll ladies I have dealt with over the years stood absolutely no chance of passing a polygraph test stating that they don't intentionally dick me around. But what could I do? I was just a lonely trucker not really known by anybody. Dauphin County Prison's psychiatrist had literally described me as "A Ghost".
As if my blood pressure wasn't high enough it only went higher as I read stupidity in the rejection letter from the UC board. IF IT WAS REALLY FROM THE ENTIRE UC BOARD. I knew only one person had partnered up with my former employer and drank up their Kool-Aide of bullshit. I tried to keep from gaping as I read what Ms. Sarah had written for reason for dispute.
CLAIMANT LEFT DUE TO DELAY IN OWED WAGES .
Followed by section 402b printed in the letter.
Did this manager woman not know how to read? Had I not already faxed proof of an affidavit of debt of nearly a thousand dollars still owed?Does it not clearly state that necessitous reasons were covered? Did I not mail them in addition an 8GB SD card proving I was ousted and my safety was at risk?
I have a one track mind. When it comes to endeavors I can only tackle one project at a time. I think I joked with my Federal Case manager John Miles once that I couldn't chew bubble gum while walking without tripping on a sidewalk. My civil case needed to be my top priority as I had already paid Marion County Indiana the court processing fees. If PA UC agency had been stonewalling me for nearly two months without payments why would I want my procurement efforts to be futile? Would it be wise to mix UC papers with my civil papers? Heck no. This UC mess was going to have to be a job for Mr. Spencer Cohn once I start creating some sort of income!
I scrolled my eyes down towards the bottom of the letter. My UC appeal hearing was scheduled for September 17th at 1:30 pm! What a bunch of conspiring assholes! I thought to myself. How was this thwarting of my September 18th civil hearing way out in Indy not done on purpose?
Then everything dawned on me. The company's operations manager Mr. Paul. He wanted his big game of chess. He had encouraged the UC board to schedule my UC hearing just 19 hours before my big civil hearing knowing I wouldn't be able to catch my breath after a 630 Mile road trip to Indy. I had a mountain of evidence of his foul play and he knew that. I had him listed as my defendant. He knew he was in legal trouble and wanted to peek at all my cards first. As a professional poker player I knew this was a really bad idea. I didn't trust Paul and rightfully so. He had already purposely provided me a spreadsheet just hours after I quit with false HUB information in it. Just because I was the convict didn't mean I was the King of the Shimmy Sham Sham. I was up against college credentialed Mr. Paul. The guy that could probably tell you just how many times those tycoons actually had to pick up a shovel in life to make those lofty mortgage payments. The smaller the hands, the smaller "those" people could write up the small print to net their millions. I was no sucker. I lacked college credentials but had little small hands too! If there was a shimmy sham sham contest I could retort with some shimmy sham sham self taught photoshop skills that I knew Mr. Paul could never keep up with! I was uncle b. A sharp shooter at the craps table and a self taught counterfeiter. He'd never win a little four inch sword-pen fight with me!
Then I peered further down the letter and really knew after what I was reading I had no other choice but to hire Spencer for this quibble contest as the UC letter was straight up forewarning me that the hearing wouldn't be fair. Mr. Paul would be entitled to hide behind the telephone like he always did. A real Jakey from State Farm at that. Tough guy on the phone but when you stand next to him in person suddenly it's like your caught up in a Dilbert cartoon.
I knew that even though I didn't feel a hearing was necessary as I had already faxed proof substantial money was owed it would be a really bad idea to do this UC hearing right before my civil case if I was looking for a win out in Indiana. I knew what Mr.Paul's strategy was but I didn't trust the shady UC board and I felt the bile rise up in my throat at the site of a UC "Referee". Did Harrisburg think my financial welfare was some kind of sick twisted game that they opted to hire a referee over a judge? Could they legally do this?
I knew what I had to do. I had to call the UC agency and ask for a request for a continuance of my UC hearing as it interfered with my civil case and THERE WAS NO WAY I was messing THAT up. Not to mention I had started a PT job just a week ago delivering pizzas so I could muster up the gas money to straighten out those people in Indiana holding onto quite a stockpile of owed wages that I was determined to get back. The reason I was so hellbent on getting 100% of the owed money was because of the dangers they inflicted upon me by remotely shutting off my tractor. I was convinced my dispatcher Kathy wasn't the one doing it but a woman in there named "Trish" wasn't quite off the hook. She always managed to keep her last name hidden which made her my number one suspect as it brought back flashbacks from my book "A Flaggers Journey" when they're payroll manager Ashley had stolen from so many flaggers she had no option but to coin the nickname "Tess". And "Trish" and "Tess" were very close to quasi in my book!
45 MINUTES OF ELEVATOR MUSIC
A gentleman sounding a little bit older than me answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Yes hi this is Blake Steidler but my dispatchers call me Bob. How are you doing today?"
"Well pretty good my day is almost over and we get paid tomorrow, so I'm guessing I'm doing pretty good."
I cracked a funny. "Well gee I wish I was getting paid tomorrow. I guess my stockpile is getting quite full in there."
The man chuckled. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Why yes there is as a matter-of-fact. I got a job last week at the pizza shop and I guess I need to report it? I updated it on my application but wasn't sure if I needed to still report it as I'm not technically collecting UC benefits anyways. That stockpile is surely growing in there isn't it?"
The man chuckled again. He must be figuring out I knew that if I win my hearing those claimed weeks go retroactive. I was already out thousands of dollars just for bills and food expenses and as poor as I got I refused to drink generic coffee. These days everybody stereotypes about something whether they want to or not. Some people judge people by their clothes. Some people judge people by their cellphones. Some people judge people by their personal vehicles like my former boss Scott at the beer distributor.
Needless to say, if you're drinking a hot cup of stale ass coffee I'm frowning upon you from the door. Tim Horton's is number one out there and as poor as I was getting I was still buying name brand coffee to make a statement.
The fellow on the UC hotline continued. "Yes you should report EVERYTHING even if you're not collecting."
I countered. "Well, that could be kind of hard you see. It's an all cash operation and it would be hard keeping track of bills in every pocket. To make it easy I just stopped making UC claims because I like to be accurate and they never turned the juice on in the first place."
The man chuckled. "Well you can still appeal. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Yeah, there's no way I can make the 18th hearing date because I already made travel plans for my Civil hearing."
"Where are they having your hearing?" He asked.
"In Harrisburg. That's like nearly an hour drive for me. Plus Mr. Paul gets to hide behind the telephone. Doesn't seem like a fair one if you ask me."
The man softly chuckled once more. "Harrisburg? Where did you say that you lived?"
"Lancaster."
I heard some hemming and hawing on the other end of the line.
"I don't know why they would make you come all the way out to Harrisburg if you live right there in Lancaster. They need to have your hearing scheduled in Lancaster."
"I know. They've kept me in purgatory quite a bit. Personally I think all the Celadon Payroll ladies transferred over to the Unemployment Office so they could have fun with those checks too!"
The chuckles were subsiding and I knew it was time to wrap up the phone call and let this man get back to work.
I was not letting Jake From State Farm win this quibble contest with the extra leverage he had by hiding his Shimmy Sham Sham giggles deep inside the telephone. Hell no, not after I came this far. I knew Spencer could easily handle this Dilbert wannabe. There was just simply no way I was going to allow Mr. Paul to hide behind Celadon's telephone and portray me as the one that screwed up. That sneaky little devil wasn't going to get a sneak peak at all the aces I was hoarding up in my stack of cards. It was a good strategy he had come up with to worm his way out of having even more scams to drum up to counter the evidence I had against him. I knew there was just no way I was going to allow Jake from State Farm ruin Both my benefits AND my owed wages. That just simply wasn't gonna happen.
In reality I had failed American History in high school at least three or four times until I finally got the credit in summer school. That could only have meant one thing after failing history class so many times and having to repeat it over and over. SOME of that had to sink in. Christopher Columbus sailed the blue in fourteen hundred and ninety two and guess how wars were won back then?
THEY TOOK THEIR ENEMIES BY SURPRISE