It just keeps getting worse. I am so burnt out on dealing with screaming customers. The worst part is that what causes these problems are other assholes at the company I'm at causing them to happen in the first place. Drivers at my company are the absolute bane of my existence and it never stops: drivers not arriving on time and not answering their phone or updating their schedule so we have no idea where the fuck they are. Drivers unable to follow very simple instructions such as "Place it by this spot." or they just refuse to do what they're paid to do and leave the shit wherever. Then you have complete fucking retards who give the customer the wrong shit and now, no one knows where they are and when they're going to go back to fix the problem they caused. How in the fuck do you mix up a sofa with a fire pit? Then there's retards that don't call the god damn customer when the driver doesn't show up. I have to deal with that situation between 1 to 5 times every single day because some asshole didn't do their job.
Sidebar: when you get your shit in the mail and you got it relatively on time without any damage to it. Then get on your knees and thank whatever entity you worship that that happened. The people who drive the trucks and deliver our shit are 9 times out of 10 fucking retards.
These were not issues pre-COVID but ever since it's just become the new norm. Meanwhile, the people running this shit show have been promising that the problems will be fixed, they're looking into it, and all that. Nigger, it's been a year. How fucking hard is it to hire more people to handle the increased volume of orders and make sure the fucking retarded drivers do their fucking job?
Plus they changed how we bonus so I went from making about $500 per quarter to now around $150-200 per quarter. Also, a new system will be coming grading us on pointless bullshit like "Oh, sir that piece of shit you bought looks great!" That kind of nonsense. And they keep shifting more and more issues -again, caused by other people not doing their job- onto us.
So I am genuinely stressed out and my manager gives me the line for the work stress line. There's a little page for it, a PDF, all that shit. So I'm like "Okay, I'll call the line, maybe just to have this documented so they can't just fire me." And the line to speak with someone is an Ireland only number. I am not kidding. If you want to speak to someone, you have to make an international call and pay whatever fees involved. And there's no email or anything or online chat for anyone either.
Edit: had another asshole customer on the line. This cunt somehow rescheduled her delivery from the 28th to the 29th. Now, if you do that, it kicks out whatever date was scheduled and you can't get it back because we are so insanely busy. So she calls in and wants the 28th. I explain it's not avail, cannot get it back, we have the 29th and we have other dates that are available. She's still not accepting that. Demands a manager, demands another rep and then starts screaming that I'm racist (it was a jogger). Just screams that I'm racist and I had had enough by that point in the evening and hung up on the nigger.
I am officially looking for other lines of work because this is insane.
Truck drivers are generally retarded. I regularly deal with concrete truck drivers and can literally count on
one hand three fingers the ones who had functioning brains.
Today, for example, I was working at a site that has two entrances; one is at "ABC Road", the proper street address of the site but the other, "XYZ St" is the receival/trade/large vehicle access gate and is on a street running parallel to the first one. The driver of the concrete truck predictably showed up at the ABC Rd entrance and beeped his horn for attention. I drove all the way around to that entrance (it's a large site), climbed up the side of his cab and said, "What does your delivery docket say?!"
Driver, reading first line of delivery instructions: "Name Of Company, 123 ABC Rd!"
Literally underneath that, highlighted in yellow, are the words "Gate on XYZ St".
I point this out to the driver. He responds, "But it says 123 ABC Rd..."
I say, "Yes, and then it says 'Gate on XYZ St'...."
*Driver is flummoxed by my apparently superhuman ability to interpret two lines of text*
The docket also has the name and telephone number of my concreting subcontractor, a man with an unmistakably Italian first and last name. I am very, very obviously of Anglo-Celtic origin, but the driver asks why I didn't answer my phone when he was trying to ring me. I said, "Do I look like my name would be (((Italian name)))?!"
TL;DR - The prerequisites for being a truckie seem to be mild retardation, incipient alcoholism and adult onset diabetes.
