SIZE MATTERS
"Every mornin' at the mine you could see him arrive
He stood 6 foot 6 and weighed 245
Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew you didn't give no lip
To Big John"
James Dean, Big bad john
I have often wondered how I would run my trucking company if I was 6'4" and weighed 245 instead of 5'7"...in shoes with thick soles and heels...160. I mean, would I have more confidence to push my agenda (on employees, customers, etc.) through at six four than the five seven little bugger that I am? You betcha. People look at six four and five seven differently. Who would you rather ask for a raise? The Rock or Dustin Hoffman?
Six four, 245 is a hunk of man. What employee is going to charge fuel to my fuel card and put it into another trucker's tanks when he has to answer to six four, 245? Who would dare sell a load lock for cash because they spent all their expense money on scratch-offs? (And then tell me somebody stole the load lock, or they inadvertently left it on a dock. What if I found out the truth?) Or tell me they were sick and couldn't drive when they wanted to stay home, knowing that six four would come knocking at their door...or break it down.
Who would dare be late for a delivery?
Who would dare get in an accident?
Who would dare give s__t to a customer?
Who would dare break into a customer's building and take a dump on his office floor because that customer closed before he got there?
Who would dare, because...
I'D SLAP THE SNOT OUT OF ALL OF THEM...TIE THEM UP BY THEIR ANKLES AND LET THEM SAMPLE THE BASTINADO!
And what about my customers? Woe to the person who does not pay within my terms...late charge, 2 per cent of his flesh. And how could a customer refuse my rate increase if he knew I could put a hole in his chest with my fist and rip his heart out before he had a chance to say no? I mean, two truckers go into the same customer's office looking for a rate increase. The customer is a scrawny five nine nonentity with spindle-thin legs and arms to match. The first trucker, a five seven, one fifty-five pound twerp asks somewhat demurely for a dime a hundred-weight increase. The second trucker...me...a six four, 245 pound mass of sinew and beefcake, demands a quarter a hundred...or else. Who is the customer going to give the rate increase to? Or, who is he most likely to say no to, knowing that one guy will simply turn around and walk, muttering to himself that maybe the customer can't afford a rate increase now and he will try again next year...and the other might castrate him?
I would take on the greedheads in Albany and Washington, DC and squish them like a bug; make them ride with my drivers and see first hand, up close and personal, the manifestations of their manager-trainee sized thoughts, rules, and regulations. I would force them to pay my lumper fees for a month.
And the lady in the Lexus who pulled in front of my truck in March and slammed on her brakes causing my driver to rear end her car; who said she was not injured, had very little damage to her car (no damage to my truck), and zipped away from the scene only to have a lawyer now claim she is suffering "serious and permanent" injuries. I would be the insurance company and settle this claim, making sure her injuries WERE "serious and permanent."
Yes, sir. If I were six four, 245, I would have employees, customers, et alia marching in lockstep in my parade. All the world would be my stage. And my company would be Fleet Owner's perennial FLEET OF THE YEAR, and top dog in Commercial Carrier Journal's TOP 100. But...
Alas, I am not six four, 245. I am five seven...in shoes with thick soles and heels...and 160 pounds.
It makes a difference.
He stood 6 foot 6 and weighed 245
Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew you didn't give no lip
To Big John"
James Dean, Big bad john
I have often wondered how I would run my trucking company if I was 6'4" and weighed 245 instead of 5'7"...in shoes with thick soles and heels...160. I mean, would I have more confidence to push my agenda (on employees, customers, etc.) through at six four than the five seven little bugger that I am? You betcha. People look at six four and five seven differently. Who would you rather ask for a raise? The Rock or Dustin Hoffman?
Six four, 245 is a hunk of man. What employee is going to charge fuel to my fuel card and put it into another trucker's tanks when he has to answer to six four, 245? Who would dare sell a load lock for cash because they spent all their expense money on scratch-offs? (And then tell me somebody stole the load lock, or they inadvertently left it on a dock. What if I found out the truth?) Or tell me they were sick and couldn't drive when they wanted to stay home, knowing that six four would come knocking at their door...or break it down.
Who would dare be late for a delivery?
Who would dare get in an accident?
Who would dare give s__t to a customer?
Who would dare break into a customer's building and take a dump on his office floor because that customer closed before he got there?
Who would dare, because...
I'D SLAP THE SNOT OUT OF ALL OF THEM...TIE THEM UP BY THEIR ANKLES AND LET THEM SAMPLE THE BASTINADO!
And what about my customers? Woe to the person who does not pay within my terms...late charge, 2 per cent of his flesh. And how could a customer refuse my rate increase if he knew I could put a hole in his chest with my fist and rip his heart out before he had a chance to say no? I mean, two truckers go into the same customer's office looking for a rate increase. The customer is a scrawny five nine nonentity with spindle-thin legs and arms to match. The first trucker, a five seven, one fifty-five pound twerp asks somewhat demurely for a dime a hundred-weight increase. The second trucker...me...a six four, 245 pound mass of sinew and beefcake, demands a quarter a hundred...or else. Who is the customer going to give the rate increase to? Or, who is he most likely to say no to, knowing that one guy will simply turn around and walk, muttering to himself that maybe the customer can't afford a rate increase now and he will try again next year...and the other might castrate him?
I would take on the greedheads in Albany and Washington, DC and squish them like a bug; make them ride with my drivers and see first hand, up close and personal, the manifestations of their manager-trainee sized thoughts, rules, and regulations. I would force them to pay my lumper fees for a month.
And the lady in the Lexus who pulled in front of my truck in March and slammed on her brakes causing my driver to rear end her car; who said she was not injured, had very little damage to her car (no damage to my truck), and zipped away from the scene only to have a lawyer now claim she is suffering "serious and permanent" injuries. I would be the insurance company and settle this claim, making sure her injuries WERE "serious and permanent."
Yes, sir. If I were six four, 245, I would have employees, customers, et alia marching in lockstep in my parade. All the world would be my stage. And my company would be Fleet Owner's perennial FLEET OF THE YEAR, and top dog in Commercial Carrier Journal's TOP 100. But...
Alas, I am not six four, 245. I am five seven...in shoes with thick soles and heels...and 160 pounds.
It makes a difference.
posted by The Highway Reporter at 9:05 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home