Training

I arrived at the office in Maine this morning around 10 or so -- an hour early to get an idea of how things work behind the scenes. The manager was there and very pleased to see me at such an early point in time. While I waited around and got to know more about the business, more trainees arrived and were assigned to their respective shadow positions. I learned that I would be learning all about the truck-based business on the Dover route. When my buddy for the day showed up, we made our way out to the imposing fleet of mid-1970's vintage Grumman box vans. We prepped the truck, restocked the coolers where necessary and set out on our journey. Within 500' of leaving the parking lot, the deficiencies of the truck's roadhandling capabilities were realized. Nothing ever seems to get completely repaired on these trucks, but rather Mickey Moused to the point where it works again. I saw the owner of the company painting a truck with a roller and ordinary house paint today... seems about as futile as my mom trying to fix the rust spot on the refrigerator by painting over it! But I really shouldn't knock the frugality of the company -- they run a tight ship and I am quite impressed so far. So as we made our way to the highway on this partly-sunny Fathers Day 2007, I was told that the trucks are incapable of going over 45mph and handle poorly at any speed over 5mph. I had yet to drive the truck at this point, so this remained to be seen. A quick blast over the Piscataqua and onto the Spaulding Turnpike landed the truck at Hilton Park. A few customers came over and bought stuff and then we moved onto some neighborhoods in Dover Point. After a couple of hours, my buddy had to grab some food. Seeing as how by this point we had moved far enough down Dover Point Road so that dropping into Burger King wouldn't be an issue. I was given the privilege to pilot the rickety machine around some neighborhoods while he ate his lunch and whatnot. The Grumman Box Van paled in comparison to some of the worst vehicles I ever recall having driven... aside from my old 1993 Honda Civic LX, that list would include a 1960-something Triumph TR-4 and a 1991 Alfa Romeo 164 among others. You sit upright with the steering wheel, the diameter of a decent sized large pizza, in your lap. The brake pedal is about 6" closer to you than the gas. I had to keep my right leg kinked outward to be able to move between the pedals effectively. The seat has absolutely no cushioning, a rather futile attempt at a seatbelt and one adjustment -- up or down. Anyway, push came to shove and we drove around for a few more hours... returned the truck around 8pm and that was that. I won't make a thin dime until I have a chat with the boss lady and get my schedule set up. I am exhausted, and not just because all I could smell all day were uncatalyzed emissions from the mighty Chevy 250 I-6 under the "doghouse" but because I'm getting up earlier and earlier to allow this and my other venture to co-exist. Goodnight.