New Dispatcher Sighs Alot, Never On Right Screen


Cheektowga, NY—Standing in the check in room in two loose lines waiting to clock in the delivery drivers were grateful this morning’s chatter drifted to the new dispatcher, Mike, and away from the, soul crushing, brag/whining of the Southtown drivers, who never stop boring everybody with their stories about the hours they work, the miles they drive and the dogs they evade, while making the not so subtle point that everyone else sucks.

Paul started the conversation asking, “What’s up with Mike? Everytime I call to get an address updated he gives me this big sigh and says has to change screens.”

“Yeah…right,” said Colleen, “And then it always takes forever for the screen to load because the system is slow. He sighs like ten more times while we wait.”

“If Mike answers I hang up and keep calling back till I get Jimmy or Sean,” Norberg said shaking his head.

“Isn’t like ninety percent of his job looking up addresses, why is he always on the wrong screen?” Paul asked again

Bell, one of the Southtown drivers puffed his chest and said, “In the Southtowns, we correct our own addresses. You all suck.”

Tom McCabe, the Akron driver had a theory, “I think Mike’s woozy from all the food he eats. Ever see his lunch bag, it’s like a friggin suitcase.”

“You have no idea,” Dickie Fatta, the downtown legend said  “He has a George Foreman grill in that thing and he barbecues liverwurst sandwiches.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mark said, a frightened look coming to his face. “I was in the stall next to him the other day and there was this explosion. No pun intended, but it literally scared the shit out of me. Made me think of Dresden, 1945.”

Dave, the Southtowns driver whose giant head makes you think of monoliths like Stonehenge and the old Daryl Hannah movie, Attack of the 50 Ft Woman bragged, “In the Southtowns, when we’re on our routes, instead of lunch we catch a fish in nearby streams with our bare hands. After a few bites we cast them aside and keep on working unlike you slacker assholes. You all suck.”

Just then Mike, the new dispatcher, entered the check in room weighed down by his suitcase /lunchbox. The room went eerily quiet. Mike sighed and asked if he could cut the line because…”the system takes a long time to load and I don’t want to affect anyone’s productivity by being on the wrong screen.”

As the time hit zero the drivers snickered to themselves while clocking in. Only the Southtown drivers remained stoic and humorless because it was real now and everyone besides them were slacker assholes.

About P.A. Kane

Writer and payer of tuition.

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