It’s the friends you can call up at four a.m. that matter.
Marlene Dietrich
I've known my friend, Will, for several years now. It's been a good friendship, and to my mind, I've been the primary beneficiary of it.
I call Will "The Big Man," a term of respect and honor. It's a rare term to be used. While every place has someone who knows the ropes, knows the business, who can teach others, when you call someone "The Big Man," you're referring not only to their abilities, but their character. If you're in trouble, professionally, personally, you talk to The Big Man. He's the one who knows how to get yourself out of trouble, and who can show you how to stay out of it. More to the point, he can tell you how to do it without hurting anyone else. It's not a reference to physique, but to the size of the heart.
We'd met while I was working at a heavy haul outfit, and it was Will who showed me most of what I needed to know. In the 20+ years that he's been driving, he's done most everything you can do with a truck, including pulling bull wagons, flats, lowbeds, Klein tanks, and a few combinations they don't even have names for. Will is a solid professional, and he's earned his title. Frankly, I don't think I'd be half as good as I am without him.
It was about a year and a half ago that I managed to reconnect with him. My boss had asked if I knew any good drivers; we had empty rigs and we needed someone who could take the wheel. I thought of Will, called around, and managed to get a hold of him.
Will was in a bad way. He'd left the heavy haul outfit and was hauling rock for a company in Woodland, CA. He was getting short loads, and few miles, which was leaving him with a running deficit every month. Worst of all, his wife, Lani, had died the year before. I'd met her once, a short, plump woman, with a generous smile and even more generous heart. She'd contracted ovarian cancer, and while it was a painful way to go, it was at least relatively quick. Her suffering had been mercifully short, but it was Will who was paying for it. He was drinking heavily off duty, and wasn't eating well at all. He had let himself go.
Peggy and I talked about it. I told Will about where I was working, and while there were a few problems, I was dealing with them. Will thought it sounded like just the ticket, and I brought him an application. It wasn't long after that the apartment complex where he'd been living served him with an eviction notice for unpaid rent. We emptied a bedroom for him, since my son, Jon, had moved out, and Will moved in with us. He set the rent he'd pay, (far more than we thought he should be paying), he cut way back on his alcohol consumption, and hit the highway, hard.
Just when I thought I couldn't learn any more from Will, he showed me otherwise. I'd been struggling somewhat with driving OTR, but Will would run with me, and coach me on what I needed to be doing. Things which had been throwing me on my logbook, on my customer contact, on just getting the damned loads down the road, now began to make more sense. I was getting better at driving, and even better than that at making it work, and making it pay. And while I've still got a lot to learn, it's been easier because my friend has been there helping me.
Will also intervened in some other critical areas. Peggy and I struggled with the change to OTR, and it threatened our marriage. If I haven't been here as much, it's partly because Will would literally turn off the computer, chase me out of the home office, and insist I spend time with my wife. "You're here for maybe a day or two out of the week. She's got first call," he'd point out. He was right, and in the end, it's been a huge help to set this aside and just spend time with Peggy, reminding myself that she's the reason for this.
I suppose I should have worried about Peggy being alone with Will. Far too many other drivers would tell you I should have been. Not so. Will considers Peggy to be more of a sister, and he'd never violate a friendship by making a pass at my wife. Like I said: He's The Big Man. It's a measure of his character as much as his skill.
Having said that, it also bears noting that we had warned Will what I was going through with this outfit, the worst part being that they have little in the way of loyalty, and that getting my paycheck on time is somewhat akin to trying to drive a Kenworth through a pedestrian tunnel. Sometimes it works, but a lot of times, if I get it by the seventh of the month, I'm lucky.
A couple of weeks ago, Will got stopped at the Madras scales in Oregon. It was a paper check, fairly common, but a matter of concern. Oregon is hard as hell on logbooks.
It turned out Will was behind on his logbook. It's a discretionary thing; give a bear grief over it, and you can get hit with fines which can range up to $10,000. In Will's case, the bear at the chicken coop asked him to update. No fine, no points, just five minutes, two lines, and one notation. Over, out.
But the rest of it got worse. They ran his license. Suspended.
Years ago, Will had been married to a woman who cheated on him, while he was out on the road. He divorced, but was unable to come up with the scratch to make the alimony and child support payments, both of which even the courts thought were excessive. He got behind, but he's been paying on it. As it turned out, the Sacramento Family Court decided he wasn't paying on it fast enough, and paperwork was filed which suspended his license.
It was a complete crock. DMV and the courts cleared it right away, but it would take two weeks to get his license back. In the meantime, Will was suspended until it was. The company took his rig, and now, it's questionable if he'll get another ride, even though he's able to go back to work tomorrow.
What's worse is that we have this jackoff who's been running his mouth, saying Will's been fired for DUI. It's a complete falsehood: Will won't drink when he's going to be out on the road. I know this about the man. I've been lodging complaints about this, but it's doing me no good since the jackoff is an owner-op, and in this outfit, they tend to be unable to do any wrong.
And now, we don't have our paychecks. Again.
Will had to float a couple of checks just so he'd be able to pay his share of the food bill, something we told him he didn't have to worry about. He'd helped us, now I was able to help him. In the meantime, we were expecting our checks, via FedEx, on the fifth. It turned out to be a no-go: we might get them Tuesday.
Will's time with this outfit has been a nightmare. He's been threatened, bullied, challenged, and cheated. At one point, he drove a mere fifteen miles from Kent, WA, to the company's yard. The boss ripped into him about the cost of fuel. Will tossed a $20 bill onto the boss's desk, and told him, "Here! It's covered!" There was no reason for the boss to chew Will out about this, particularly since his actions were, more or less, SOP. When you finish up that close to the yard, you run back to the yard and turn in your paperwork. If you're headed somewhere else from a load nearby, you generally know long before you get to your destination.
I got Will hired on with this company, and it hasn't worked out well for him, and it's gotten worse for me. I've already got feelers out for another gig, and a couple of hard bites to go with them. In the meantime, Will got in touch with the boss to find out where our checks are, and for his efforts, he might get fired.
I have come to believe that if you want to truly help someone, you don't just toss them a bone. You give them the tools needed to stand on their own, to rebuild, to gain true strength. Sometimes, at least for me, good advice, and good information, are a greater help than anything else. I thought I'd given Will real assistance, and it turns out I've knocked him down to his knees again.
It isn't fair.
It isn't right.
And while Will keeps telling me it's okay, that he understands I'm getting hurt here, too, it doesn't make it okay with me. I wanted to give The Big Man the help he deserved, and I've failed him.
Damn it all.
