The last load was ready to go. Some weird pump like tubing, all dressed in plastic. Various bits of wood with scaff braces bolted on with a wrench I didn’t have with me. Chicken wire and rusted corrugated iron glued to board. Some fucked old pallets. “Mixed load” (Turns out pallets have to be very good to sell them. I got £6 for a van full of pallets, and they took 3 for that. We had to chuck the rest).
So yeah, I was about to fork the load into the tipper when a man swarmed in with escorts. He went straight up to the pile I had been told to leave.
“That’s supposed to go. That’s supposed to go,” he starts, talking to the guy next to me as if I’m not there, itemising things. “They should have taken this all. This isn’t the deal we had. I was told it would all go. I’m calling him up.”
I finally got the guy to look at me and hear me. Thankfully I have a video of his staff member telling me it wasn’t for me. I have magical recordyface glasses – it wasn’t a stealth film though, I told him I was recording it so I could plan it. But I’m very very glad I did.
“No need to call him,” I say, and I think I sound calm. I don’t want my very very busy client to get a stressed message from the warehouse owner. I can get it out for you tomorrow no trouble and I’ll sort it out with him myself. He acquiesces but he can’t resist: “This is what you get when you employ people from outside.” With me standing right next to him. Rude.
I find myself thinking of all the England flags that went up yesterday around the industrial estate, and on the road in and the roundabout. A profusion of them. I know that’s not what he means by “from outside”, but it’s the same attitude when you condense it and I still haven’t been allowed to see this man’s eyes. I’m not one of “his” people, is his judgement, made in haste and without thought. And it’s true because I don’t fucking know which bit of green flat is for which fucking show, and he made them so he does. “I recognise that bit cos it almost killed me when I made it.” He’s more interested in the pallets than me. So I go full charm offensive and I think I’ve made some headway and he gangles back out defused and goes to his next thing. He’s running an astonishingly large business. My adrenaline is in full flow but it’s all good.
Canice gets back. There’s time in the day for one more load. Yaah Fuck it. We start cutting into the stuff he’s pointed out and get two more loads sent. And I’m back in tomorrow again. Had to explain to the client and hope he’d cover the extra. Thankfully he agreed to my proposal by WhatsApp at half seven at night so I’m not gonna be paying to work tomorrow.
Off to bed.
Business is hard, folks. I’m learning on so many levels.
AlBarclay 