Thursday, May 12, 2005

My most supreme moment in poor personal decision making.

Warning: The following post contains material intended for a mature audience. Parental guidance is advised.

...So I'm walking through the packing area, on my way to unlock the storage area that contains all our zany high dollar Vespel tm. material, when I see a guy struggling with a couple hundred pound homopolymer rod trying to get it on a pallet for shipment. I toss my keys down and we hump it onto the skid. I get called over to sales shortly after and clear up a freight billing issue along with a credit hold matter with our metro courier. My day goes on. And on.

At about half past four in the afternoon I begin to make a mental summary of what has been accomplished and what remains for the day to end. Still have to run the end of day report for UPS shipping and check the shipments for mistakes. Check. Still have to run the cycle counts on Polypropylene sheets to Ops. Check. Still have to get laid. We'll shelve that. While doing this I half-unconsciously slip my hand into my pocket. No, you pervs. Not because I was just thinking of the last of the aforementioned list, but because I was wanting to get out of there and was fiddling with my car keys, only my car keys

Weren't there.

Now where in the hell did I put my keys? The last time I had them out was to open the cage, which I didn't have to do anyway, and I set them down... On the pallet! Fuck! Shit! Fucking Shit! I walk over to the staging area for outbound shipments to find the pallet and the area is

Empty.

OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKSHITSHITSHIT! Where was that pallet going? Where are the fucking Bills of Lading. No. No. Not that one. Nope. No. Class 70 Polymer rod. Bingo. Bullocks Freight Lines. Going to... Denver. My car and house keys are going to Denver, CO. Bon Voyage.

OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK!

My heart is going like a 20 mike-mike minigun at this point. I scramble for the phone. I know that trailer has to hit their yard in Grand prairie before it starts rolling north. I get on the phone with their dispatcher. He is very helpful. After laying out the situation to him, I hear the beeps associated with a cell phone with two way radio capability in the background.

Hey Mike, where are you now?

Just made the McKinney pickup.


Great! He's still in town!

Would you look on the skid from your last pickup for a set of keys?

I'm looking at it right now. Nope. No keys. Must've fallen off.


My heart is in my throat at this point.

No, Mike. Look UNDER the shielding. Somewhere around the rod underneath.

A long pause.

Found 'Em.

Can you run back down and drop them off before you hit the yard?

On my way.


An hour later a big Bullocks Freight Lines Semi comes pulling around, the driver dangling a set of keys out the window and producing a big shit-eating grin. Ever have one of those days?

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