People Lose Their Jobs After The Great Crash

, , , , , , , , | Working | August 23, 2018

In a busy warehouse it can often be difficult to store everything. In such instances, the answer is often to start stacking pallets to consolidate them into a smaller area. Whilst space efficient, this does carry the risk of having a stack collapse if some thought isn’t put into the matter.

On this occasion, we were receiving four full articulated (26 pallet) loads of piston heads at 600 heads per pallet. The heads arrived in plastic shipping containers with grooves in the top to line up a crate above — in other words, perfect for stacking. However, the warehouse manager and I, the deputy warehouse manager, agreed that due to weight and product value, we should go no more than three high, and informed all the staff working that this was to be the case.

Fast forward a few hours: wagon three of four is being unloaded and I’m in my office filing paperwork when I hear an almighty crash. I run out to find hundreds of piston heads strewn across the floor and an extremely sheepish forklift driver. After a bit of investigation, it is found that for whatever reason he had attempted to stack five-high, and the stack had promptly fallen over once he’d pulled the forks out.

Cleanup took two days due to the heads being small enough to roll under pallets elsewhere in the warehouse. All told, just over 2,000 heads were thrown loose in the fall. Only some 400 carried visible damage; however, due to the precision nature of the items, all items thrown from their pallets had to be written off at the expense of £120 per head. Due to insurance, we avoided having to pay this out of our own pocket, but the customer promptly cancelled our contract with them. The forklift driver was let go soon after.

Doesn’t Give A Fork(lift) What Comes Out Of His Mouth

, , , , , , , | Working | August 14, 2018

I work for a medium-sized haulage company as a driver, and also as an extra hand in the warehouse — I’m qualified to drive fork lift trucks — whenever I need to make some extra cash.

Our warehouse only has two permanent staff: the warehouse manager who is a hard-working, highly capable man in his 30s, and the permanent forklift driver, who is a deeply unhealthy man in his late 50s with serious work ethic issues and almost non-existent people skills, who’s pretty much coasting until retirement at this point.

The forklift driver is almost invariably in a bad mood, always hungover, and generally just an a**e to everyone who sets foot in the yard, often going as far as insulting individuals or their parentage, etc. However, if you confront him about his behaviour — he’s not a large man, and forty years of heavy smoking hasn’t done him any favours — he will back down permanently against you as an individual and be considerably more polite with you from then on.

Truckers aren’t exactly a passive lot, so unsurprisingly, the majority of our own staff have had words with him at one time or another, so with our own staff he’s not too bad anymore. That being said, people from third parties pretty much always get grief off of him for pointless things like parking in the wrong bit of the yard when it’s completely empty, etc.

It was just past seven pm and we were pretty much done for the day when a van appeared to drop off the last pallet of the day, parking slightly off to the side. We do have marked bays for unloading vehicles, but we generally make no effort to enforce this until we get more than one vehicle in the yard. However, the forklift driver shouted, “Can you not see the bay? Did your mum not teach you to read, you stupid, dumb c***?”

In a shocking twist, the van driver had an issue with this comment, and emerged from his van to reveal he was well clear of six-and-a-half feet tall and had a build not all that far from a rhino on steroids. He calmly said, “Do you want to f****** say that again?”

Knowing at this point how deeply screwed he was, the forklift driver frantically tried to backpedal as the van driver walked up to him, calmly applied the forklifts handbrake, and then gripped the forklift driver with both hands and lifted and pinned him to the roof of the forklift. He then hissed something into the guy’s ear, and the forklift driver frantically bleated out a string of apologies. The van driver dropped him back into his seat and turned to the warehouse manager and me, who had gathered nearby to try and intervene if things really kicked off.

The van driver calmly asked, “Bay 1?” My manager confirmed this and we unloaded his pallet. Once he’d left, we asked the forklift driver if he was okay and whether he wanted the police called. He declined the police and just opted to go home.

I didn’t hear what the van driver said to him, and he’s never discussed it since, but it shook him up so much he was nice to everyone for about six weeks afterwards.  

I don’t condone violence as a way of getting your point across, but this guy’s been threatened by so many people at this point that I’m amazed he hasn’t learned to keep his mouth shut yet.

That Story Is Bull

, , , , , , | Working | August 14, 2018

(Our fast food store is in a semi-rural area. We have a pub on one side and a major road on another, and the remaining two sides are grazing fields frequented by a sizable herd of cattle. The fields have a high fence separating us from them; however, the quality of said fence isn’t great. One day when I am working drive-thru at the payment window, I hear a loud bang. I lean out to see, to my surprise, a large and rather agitated bull walking through the drive-thru.)

Me: *shouting* “[Manager], we have a bull in the drive-thru lane!”

Manager: *not at all believing me* “I’m sure we do, [My Name].”

(The bull goes running past me, hitting cars as it passes, and goes past the collection window where my manager is working.)

Bull: “MOO!”

Manager: “…”

(The bull then ran out onto the road, halting traffic for close to two hours whilst the police first tried to corral it back into the field, and finally tranquilised it when it started to get more aggressive.)

Having An Off Day Instead Of A Day Off

, , , , , | Working | June 13, 2018

(I work at a care home. It is my day off when I get a phone call from my manager:)

Manager: “You’re an hour and a half late for work.”

Me: “It’s my day off.”

Manager: “No, it’s not. We switched it with tomorrow. We changed it on the rota in the staff room; didn’t you look?”

Me: “I checked the rota before I left yesterday; it hadn’t changed.”

Manager: “No, we changed it. We changed the rota at nine pm yesterday. You should have known, and now we’ve not been able to cover some of your clients, so people are still in bed; you need to be here to get them up.”

Me: “I left at eight; why did no one ring me earlier if that’s the case?”

Manager: “Erm…” *long pause* “Say, do you think you could do us a huge favour and come into work right now? We’ll give you tomorrow off, instead.”

Making A Mad Dash On The Dash-Cam

, , , , , , , | Friendly | January 15, 2018

(I drive heavy goods vehicles for a company that primarily delivers farm equipment. Due to the nature of who we deliver to, we often wind up on roads that aren’t, strictly speaking, designed to accommodate vehicles that are 60 feet long. As such, a certain degree of understanding from anyone coming the opposite direction is needed, since my vehicle generally takes up so much of the road that passing is only possible via them staying in an entrance to a field, or the rare dedicated passing spot that small rural roads sometimes have. I have just completed my delivery to a large farm and I am leaving the site, followed by several vehicles from said farm. I am roughly halfway between the farm and the passing point when a twenty-something woman drives past the passing point at speed and continues down the lane to come to a stop barely five feet in front of me. I know, given the size of my vehicle and the numerous vehicles behind me, that I can’t possibly get out of her way, so I simply wind down my window and wait for her to make a move.)

Woman: *getting out of car* “You need to move.”

Me: “The lane’s too tight for me to manoeuvre to the side, and I can’t back up because there’s vehicles behind me. You’re going to have to back up to the passing point.”

Woman: “I don’t care how hard it is for you; I’m not moving, so you’ll have to.”

(Knowing that sooner or later someone in the vehicles behind me will come along to back me up, I opt to just stare her down rather than trying to argue with her.)

Woman: “Well? Come on! I have to get moving! Get out of the way. I own the f****** farm! I have right of way. Move, NOW!”

(After another couple minutes of this, someone from the convoy behind me finally comes up to support me, and it’s clear he has little love for the stroppy woman in front of us.)

Farm Man: “[Woman], what are you playing at? There’s a line of cars behind this lorry. We aren’t all backing up for you, so back yourself up to the passing point.”

Woman: “I’m not moving. I own the farm so I have right of way!”

Farm Man: “Your uncle owns the farm. You don’t even live here; you just show up to ride horses a couple times a week. We aren’t all moving for you. Back up.”

Woman: “I’ll just tell [Uncle] and get you fired if you don’t move.”

Farm Man: “There’s over a dozen people in this queue. Apart from this guy here in the lorry, all of us work at the farm. Good luck with that.”

(With this, he turns and walks back to his car, and the woman, finally realising an entire convoy isn’t going to whisk itself out of her way, gets back into her car and starts backing up. The distance back to the passing point is perhaps 1/4 of a mile with a couple mild turns; even reversing slowly it should take no more than two or three minutes to make it back. I slowly follow after her, keeping about 50 feet away from her at all times. All seems to be fine until she arrives at the first bend in the lane. After several failed attempts at getting round it in reverse, she seemingly loses all patience, slams on the accelerator, and crashes backwards through a wooden fence, all captured by my dash-cam. Before I’ve even pulled up to where she crashed, she’s out of her car and screaming at me that I have destroyed her car.)

Woman: “You f****** a**hole! You’ve crashed my car! You can f****** pay for repairs, you c***!”

Me: “You managed that all by yourself; clearly you aren’t injured, so I’ll be on my way now.”

Woman: “Don’t you dare drive off. I’ll have your job, you b******! I’ll report you to your boss!”

Me: “The company phone number is on the side of the cab. I do have dash-cam footage of you putting yourself through that fence, though, so maybe think twice before you ring up. Goodbye.”

(I then drive off past her, ignoring the further ranting, and noting with a certain amount of satisfaction that not one of the vehicles behind me makes any attempt to stop and help her. About an hour later my boss rings me.)

Boss: “I’ve just had a complaint about you from a very angry woman saying you threw her out of her car and crashed it backwards through a fence because she wouldn’t get out of your way. Care to explain it for me?”

Me: “She managed it all by herself. I never even left the cab, and I certainly didn’t fling her from her car. I’ll be back at base in about four hours. You can check the dash-cam footage, but there’s no way anyone could say it was any fault but hers.”

(I got back to base. My boss had a look at the footage, concluded that the accident was no one’s fault but the woman’s, and proceeded to rip her a new one on the phone about abusing his staff and making fake claims against them. She did then try to go through insurance about it, but again, once they’d seen the footage, they shut her down. I do have to wonder, looking back, how self-entitled someone has to be to first demand that an entire convoy of vehicles move for you, and then somehow blame me for her own shoddy driving when she backed through a fence, and THEN be so full of themselves to fabricate a story about it even after I’d warned her that all of it was recorded by my dash-cam.)