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Soon to be a failed children's book!
Oct. 9th, 2007 07:18 pmOnce upon a time, there was an order.
The order had to travel from San Jose to Stockton, to a company on Navy Dr. (despite being well inland, Stockton is a major port and boasts two US Navy facilities. Imagine the look on the faces of enemy Navy commanders when they hear this!) This was a mighty order, and when first seen by Mr. Driver was three pallets, two weighing 2,600lbs each and the third weighing 2,100lbs. But the order was sad, for the shop was still assembling the fourth and fifth pallets.
"I have to wait how long?" Mr. Driver was heard screaming.
So while the shop team assembled pallets (a process that seems to involve pouring three gallons of lubricating oil on each piece, insuring that Mr. Driver's truck bed can serve as an alternate site for this year's U.S. Figure Skating Championships) Mr. Driver drove over to the Shiny New Warehouse to pick up his orders there.
"Please, for the love of God, kill us now!" his fellow drivers said upon seeing him. Mr Driver just laughed, grabbed his materials, and left.
Mr. Driver is one cold bitch.
Back at the Dingy Old Warehouse, the order was.. Not Ready! "15 minutes." promised the shop crew, before crawling back to their decrepit couch to watch trashy daytime court shows. But now a new trouble had appeared! The Magical Certification Documents were AWOL! Oh no! Also absent were everyone who could pull certs. Without the Magic Certs, the order would surely be refused! (and dropped in the San Joaquin River, given Mr. Driver's mood at this point.)
But finally, the order was assembled! Five pallets, 8,600 lbs, 65 gallons of lubricating oil. The Magical Certs would be sent by equally Magical Fax. And Mr. Driver, who had gotten to work at 0630, finally started his run at 1000.
And that, children, is why Mr. Driver is drunk off his ass and posting in this inane style.
The order had to travel from San Jose to Stockton, to a company on Navy Dr. (despite being well inland, Stockton is a major port and boasts two US Navy facilities. Imagine the look on the faces of enemy Navy commanders when they hear this!) This was a mighty order, and when first seen by Mr. Driver was three pallets, two weighing 2,600lbs each and the third weighing 2,100lbs. But the order was sad, for the shop was still assembling the fourth and fifth pallets.
"I have to wait how long?" Mr. Driver was heard screaming.
So while the shop team assembled pallets (a process that seems to involve pouring three gallons of lubricating oil on each piece, insuring that Mr. Driver's truck bed can serve as an alternate site for this year's U.S. Figure Skating Championships) Mr. Driver drove over to the Shiny New Warehouse to pick up his orders there.
"Please, for the love of God, kill us now!" his fellow drivers said upon seeing him. Mr Driver just laughed, grabbed his materials, and left.
Mr. Driver is one cold bitch.
Back at the Dingy Old Warehouse, the order was.. Not Ready! "15 minutes." promised the shop crew, before crawling back to their decrepit couch to watch trashy daytime court shows. But now a new trouble had appeared! The Magical Certification Documents were AWOL! Oh no! Also absent were everyone who could pull certs. Without the Magic Certs, the order would surely be refused! (and dropped in the San Joaquin River, given Mr. Driver's mood at this point.)
But finally, the order was assembled! Five pallets, 8,600 lbs, 65 gallons of lubricating oil. The Magical Certs would be sent by equally Magical Fax. And Mr. Driver, who had gotten to work at 0630, finally started his run at 1000.
And that, children, is why Mr. Driver is drunk off his ass and posting in this inane style.
