I'm sure there's a helper reading this that thinks he's the greatest helper that ever worked for Brown. Let me assure you that you're not. You're a seasonal Pack Mule. That's it. You take packages from point A to point B. Most of the time we have to hold your hand and almost walk you to the doors because you never seem to be able to figure out which green door with the yellow frame that I'm pointing to, which also happens to be the only green door with a yellow frame on the entire street. I know, shocking isn't it.
Every year you studs get on our package cars and act all hardcore for the first few days. Maybe even a week, but then the crying starts. First you cry about being sore. Then how much work we have, or how long you have to work. Then you want to know when you're getting paid, and we've only delivered two stops on the first Monday. Relax Captain Express. Lets finish the first day before we start investing your check on Wall Street. OK? Next you show-up always wearing something you were explicitly told not to, like some bright colored undershirt as if it's your other job to stand next to an open manhole cover. I guess Grandma won't fall in the hole as long as you're standing there in your triple bright neon orange t-shirt, but we honestly could care less about that. Most of us don't care if you show-up wearing just a sock on your junk as long as you're on time every day. We also appreciate it when you keep the bitching to a minimum, and you don't show-up smelling like hot balls. Your job is to show up when we tell you, do as you're instructed, be able to lift whatever I lift, and hustle. Stay off your phone, and don't walk to a stop like you're on Death Row. There should NEVER be an excuse for a driver to knock-off 2-3 stops to every one of yours. If that's the case you're too damn slow. Pick it up or beat it. I don't mind firing helpers and taking my chances with the next pick of the draw.
Next, your personal affairs do not interest me. I don't care if Honey Boo-Boo is home sick, and you need to leave early to get her chicken friend'ing soup. I don't care if every Tuesday you have get the hair on your
trimmed, or you can't find an friend'ing babysitter. Grow up kids. You want a job, then learn how to make it work. Get your
in order BEFORE you come to work, and leave the Excuse Manual at home. None of us buy it. We've heard it all before. We know why you had to call out on that coincidentally rainy day. You're a labia, we get it. Oh, it's Friday and at 3 PM you suddenly have cramps? Sure. Everyone loves to get done early on Friday, so how about you just finish the job so we can both go home at a decent hour? You know, it suddenly dawned on me that a few of you might be offended by this. Right now you're engaging your CAPS LOCK, and getting ready to "tell me how it is". Right. Cut the
. Those of you that run to [our] place on the web to bitch and moan about your drivers are the biggest labia majoras I know. We don't give a
if you think it's unfair that the stops aren't delivered equally. We're the quarterbacks, and this is our team. When you get your chance to earn my seat you can call the shots. Until that time stuff it, do what you're told, or find a nice job more suitable for you like McDonald's. Supersize the Hell out my meal when I take my lunch, and say "Here ya go sir!" because you haven't earned the right to debate your position. Don't like it? Don't do it. If you're too wet behind the ears to have adult conversations with your driver(s) about the very
you come here to bitch about, then this job isn't for you. I'm sick of reading whinny posts from helpers that can't figure out their job is to run off stops. That's it Box Warriors. It's not rocket science!
I had a helper quit today on one of the busiest days ever because he wanted to go Christmas shopping. Yup, 3 hours in to our busy day this butt jockey tried to make-up some lame excuse that even Stevie Wonder could see through, and decided he just had to leave. Let me say that again, he left to go shopping, and now he doesn't have a job. Genius right? Already broke as balls he figured he just had to get to the Mall and spend money he doesn't have, and left me stuck, which is nothing new. Been doing this for two decades. I've seen these guys come and go. I can count on half of one hand how many were solid helpers. Every Peak we deal with these clowns. I tipped the Hell out of this guy every week. Even had $50 in a card for him today, but now it's just extra beer money. Glad he saved me $50, and because he left when he did I can thank him for the 3 hours of bonus I'll make just off the number of stops I had. Thanks dummy. /rant over
