| Friday, October 21, 2005 |
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Um. What? There are some people in this world who should not be allowed to procreate, lest they pass on their extreme idiocy on to their poor, unsuspecting children. One such person is the delivery man that I dealt with today. We get a lot of deliveries to our office here in town. Mostly, the office administrator deals with them, but when she's on lunch they fall to me, largely because my desk is the next closest one to the front door. So, usually when someone pulls up in a delivery truck and grumbles "sign", I think nothing of it. Today, a truck pulls up into the parking lot and the driver jumps out. I should have known that he would be a problem as soon as he walked into the office, saw I was on the phone, and started talking to me anyway. So he goes back to his truck to unload his cargo, and then comes back to me for a signature. Since I cannot see the front area from my desk, I make the assumption that "delivery" includes bringing said cargo *inside* the office. Boy was I wrong. When I hear the customary "have a nice weekend!" shouted through the front door, I return it from my desk, however my usual curiousity gets the better of me and I go to see what we got.
That's right. The delivery driver left a 722 lb. box in the parking lot for us to deal with, because he couldn't find his way up the ramp at the end of the sidewalk. Long story short, there was much yelling and swearing at the delivery company by our Project Manager, but we ended up (and by "we" I mean, 5 of us) managing to get the boxes inside. But seriously, who does that?!? If the office wasn't chock full of burly construction men at the time, somebody would have been spending the weekend baby-sitting the several thousand dollars worth of transmission equipment sitting in the parking lot of a strip mall until a forklift had shown up. Idiot!
Liberated at 4:54 p.m. | |
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