I hit the bright red button angrily to end my call and sat in my truck contemplating what I would do next. I knew I didn’t want to take that load to New York City. It would mean missing my wedding anniversary…again.

I missed our anniversary last year too. I was stuck in a snowstorm in Denver Colorado then. And the year before that with my truck in the shop in Atlanta Georgia. Kim, my new bride of four years wasn’t happy I missed those dates. She hadn’t said much, but when I eventually got home I could tell she wasn’t happy with me.

I’m an eighteen-wheel truck driver for a large trucking company out of Dallas Texas. Kim, our toddler-daughter, Gretchen, and I live in a small town just outside of Ft. Worth.

When I accepted this load to Chicago, that unloaded this morning, the operations team said they’d get me right back to Dallas to make my anniversary. Leaving Saturday afternoon to have it here for Monday morning gave me hours to get right back home. I had put in for time off for my anniversary a month ago and had reminded them again when they assigned me the load to Chicago.

Well, guess what? The load back to Dallas did not develop and now they wanted me to take this load to New York. Said it was urgent and had to be delivered two days from now, the day of our anniversary. I hate New York traffic and congestion. I started to wonder if operations had lied to me about a load back to Dallas.

Kim was going to be pissed, as I am now. After I reminded Jerry, the load planner, that I needed to get home, he informed me they had nobody else to take the load and needed me to deliver it. The implication was, “take the load or else.” I was considering the “or else” part of the implication and didn’t like it. Operations screwed up and now they were placating the customer at my expense. This was not the way the owner of the company, John Saxon, treated his drivers. He would insist they bring me home for my anniversary.

Operations was banking on the fact that I rarely complained and am always dependable to get the job done. In other words, they were taking advantage of me.

So I had three options:

• I could take the load and upset my wife, not to mention my own personal feelings of missing another anniversary.
• I could call Mr. Saxon, something I was loathe to do. There would surely be backlash from operations for a while.
• I could drive the truck back to Dallas with no load and quit, all too common in this industry.

I looked around the expansive parking area of the truckstop just south of Chicago, watching other drivers. How many of them faced similar situations, I wondered.

It occurred to me I could call Kim and discuss it with her. That would be the right thing to do for our marriage. I picked up the phone and called her. That conversation lasted about five minutes and did not go well. She told me tersely to do whatever I thought I had to do. I could tell she was not happy. She had made arrangements for a babysitter and made reservations at a nice restaurant for the evening. We didn’t go out to a nice restaurant very often, as money was usually tight around our house.

I like this company that I’m driving for. They paid very well and had great equipment. They had a lot of freight into and out of Dallas, getting drivers home often. Operations didn’t purposely try to give drivers the shaft, some things were out of their control. They weren’t purposely trying to make me miss my anniversary, they were just doing their job of getting freight covered. Loads to New York rarely came up as Mr. Saxon directed the sales team to avoid East coast freight.

I picked up my phone and called Gary, the dispatch supervisor, reminding him of my anniversary and their pledge to get me home in time. This was another conversation that did not go well either. I must have caught Gary when he was busy with another matter. His words were short and to the point. I needed to get on the road and get that load over to New York. I suppressed my anger.

Starting the truck, I turned on the radio to listen to some music and contemplate my next move. Meathead, my dog, must have understood my plight, as he jumped up on my lap, no easy feat inside the cab of a semi. Right now, he seemed to be the only friend I had. I scratched his ears while still contemplating what to do. It was apparent, regardless of what I did, somebody was going to be upset with me.

I must have sat there for a half-hour, lost in a miasma of thought, wondering what to do. Suddenly my cell phone rang, breaking me from my reverie. I answered with a sullen hello.

“Webb,” Gary barked.

“Yes, Gary,” I replied.

“Where ya at?”

“Monee Illinois truck stop.” 

“You pick up that load for New York?” 

“No sir.” 

“Good,” Gary grunted. “Screw that load. We promised to get ya home for your anniversary and by God, that’s what we’re gonna do. I told Jerry to put somebody else on the load and get  your ass back here. Go down to Spartan in Kankakee and pick up the load to Dallas that Jerry conveniently overlooked. Jerry’s gonna buy flowers for the missus too.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I’m on my way. Thank you Gary.” I think he had already hung up. 

I put the truck in gear and headed south. Still, I wondered, ‘what would I have done about that load to New York?”