Seven degrees below zero was the temperature that the local radio gave. It was 8:00 AM and the guys said, "We don't unload trucks in negative temperatures. Maybe by noon."
"Sweet," I thought but knew that they were only kidding. I was the one that had to go out there to unstrap and de-tarp the load. They waited till I had it mostly clear then shuttled out on their forklift and back again.
I did well; I kept moving and got the job done. I'd say about an hour and a half of constant exposure. All in a day's work.
The thing that I can't understand is that I share the story but get no sympathy. I can only imagine one or two of you who could have endured that task not only without complaining but, while struggling to fold the frozen tarps (forget getting them off the trailer in the first place) stepping up to transfer the chalks so that the fork lift driver in his ski mask doesn't have to move off his seat.
I don't know why. I start to tell the story and suddenly everybody's got their own story to tell. I know that it's nothing compared to what our ancestors endured throughout the Ice Ages, but I'd like a little respect.
What was it Rodney Dangerfield said?
