Underemployment

 

I was standing outside shooting the breeze with Jimmy, the yard switcher. We were laughing about...that is I was bitching about the changes that have come down recently in my job. Al pulled up and climbed out of his truck. As he approached I said to Jimmy, “Al might be feeling the same way right about now.” Right on cue Al shakes his head and says, “Fuck this shit.” Jimmy laughed.

Jimmy can laugh at his leisure, the changes don’t effect him, only us “professional drivers.” I’d been complaining about the drop in pay; asking us to work our asses off dropping trailers hither and yon, and risk our lives in a big truck for around ten bucks an hour. Al, though cocked his head toward the building and said, “This guy,” clearly meaning Sam, the corporate honcho running things lately. “He drank a whole bunch of that JB Hunt Koolaid!” Al has a point.

There, I’ve said it, I’ve named the Company. Early on in my blogging career I disguised who I drove for. I described life from a drivers perspective, with practices and exploits that while responsible didn’t exactly fit with corporate policy. JB is so anal retentive I wouldn’t put it past them to pay people to scour the internet looking for their name. Oh, but they wouldn’t want to pay someone when they could simply have a spider do the leg work, now would they? Do I sound bitter?

I’d been stressing over the situation since the word about the changes came down over New Years, but haven’t done much to find another job. I mean, after a grueling 10 to 14 hour day, with an hour commute each way who has the energy? And on the weekend it’s recovery mode. The truth is I’m not optimistic about finding anything close to home that will pay a living wage, and home is where I want to be. So, I’ve been depressed.

“Promise me you won’t quit your job until you have another one,” my friend fairly pleaded with me. “I can’t do that,” I said, although it was my every intention to secure something else before I did quit. “I was already questioning if this job was worth the toll it’s taking on me before. If the money isn’t enough to make it worth my while, I mean, if I can’t afford the petrol to get to work then what’s the point?” KC fears for me, I know.

Living in denial I’d failed to calculate exactly what my pay would be. I simply accepted the phrase “hundreds of dollars a week” that my coworkers were bandying about and shuffled on in my haze. Then the changes took effect and I was forced to look at the reality of it. “I can’t do this anymore!” I’d scream into the night, then take a deep breath and soldier on. Then it hit me... ”I have a class A commercial driver’s license. I can quit this account without quitting my job!” So I did, I turned in my two weeks notice. What a relief! I felt so much better, instantly. It had to be the right decision.

I'm probably going to have to go back out on the road. Hopefully I'll find something that get's me home weekends, at least. The blog will change once again from Recurring Nightmare back to The (Ultra)Reluctant Trucker. I could keep working for JB Hunt; then again...