Page 39 of Love at First Site

‘Tough. I don’t like being told that the wrong stuff is my problem just because we unloaded it.’

‘You’re the boss,’ he laughs. This seems to be his new catchphrase. ‘By the way, what did you do to John?’

‘Nothing, why?’

‘I overheard him talking to one of the chippies just now. He said, “I may have got her wrong. She don’t know fuck-all, but she’s a fast learner.” That’s praise indeed from him.’

‘Bloody hell, what a day!’ I laugh. ‘It says something when the highlight is a guy who pretty much took an instant dislike to me decides I’m possibly not so bad after all.’

He smiles at me. ‘I’d take your victories where you can, and that’s not a bad one for your first day. Got any plans for the evening?’

‘Yeah. I’m going to drink some wine. I reckon I’ve earned it.’

‘You might want to look at the ladder training while you’re at it,’ he says as he climbs into his van. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

* * *

The next morning, I make a point to get in just after seven, and I’m relieved to see that the whole team assembles as requested at eight. I explain the new rule about deliveries to them and, with a little bit of grumbling from one or two, they agree that they’ll come and check everything before it’s unloaded. The first lorry arrives at eight-thirty and, from what I can see, they’re being as good as their word. It doesn’t take long, however, for the driver to hop out of his cab and come storming over to the site office.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ he asks angrily as he bursts through the door.

‘I am. What’s up?’ I reply.

‘Your lads are saying they won’t unload anything until they’ve checked it.’

‘That’s right.’

‘You can’t do that! You’re putting me behind schedule.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I tell him. ‘But that’s really not my problem. Williamsons made it very clear to me yesterday that anything we offload basically becomes ours, even if it’s not what we ordered. So, from now on, we’re going to check everything and, if it’s not right, it stays on the lorry.’

‘You’ve got no bloody right,’ he storms. ‘Don’t you know anything about haulage? I’ve got a load booked to take back north. If you don’t unload all your stuff, I won’t have room for it.’

‘You’ll have to take that up with Williamsons,’ I tell him mildly.

‘Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that.’

‘Good. I imagine you have a copy of the paperwork that you need me to sign?’

‘Yes.’ He slams it on the table. I’m delighted to see that it’s an itemised list.

‘Right, let’s go and see how they’re getting on, shall we?’

An hour later, an extremely disgruntled driver leaves the site with a surprising amount of the original load still on the truck. On top of that, I’ve gone through his list, marking every incorrect item and crossing out every missing one. Hopefully, that will send a very clear message to Williamsons, and I’m not disappointed. Barely thirty minutes pass before the phone rings. However, when I answer, I’m surprised to find that I’m not speaking to Ross, but an incandescent Deborah.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ she practically yells.

‘I’m sorry?’ I’m completely blindsided.

‘I’ve just had Ross from Williamsons on the phone. He told me there’s an extremely angry driver heading their way, because you refused to unload his truck and he doesn’t know if he’ll have enough space for his next load.’

‘That’s not strictly true. We just refused to offload any items that were incorrect. I’m not being saddled with another load of useless roof trusses, or whatever garbage they were trying to foist on us today.’

‘Did I, or did I not, expressly tell you that we needed to keep Williamsons sweet?’

‘You told me not to be aggressive with them. This isn’t being aggressive, it’s just refusing to accept, and presumably pay for, materials we can’t use.’

‘That’s not your job!’ she cries. ‘If there are discrepancies, mark them on the paperwork and I’ll deal with them when I get the invoice.’

---