I’d already clocked 52 hours. Before the day had ended (but we’ll after dark) I told my manager that it wasn’t healthy or safe, for me and driving a wheeled bomb around.
Tomorrow I’m delivering K1, AKA kerosene. It’s a similar truck to my preferred propane truck, and about as hammered. I don’t prefer delivering unpressurized liquids, but my boss said something (stupid) about “not controlling” the number of propane stops.
Our fleet is in shambles and hiring drivers isn’t working, and the auxiliary propane driver has been filling a variety of other holes.
Simply put, it’s a shit show and I’m not going to get sucked in. If I’m expected to work than I feel is healthy, safe, I’ll simply work somewhere else.
Easy enough, despite not wanting to for a variety of reasons. the scale is tipping though, and it’s about being able to spend time with Deedles. I don’t live to work any more than I live for money. All that noise is way overrated from my perspective, and I’m feeling the toll…
DeedleDoodleDaily 