Schedule down the rabbit hole

I am a creature of habit. I like the same thing to happen every time I open my computer, turn on my television or fire up the coffee pot. I like to watch the same news channel in the morning and drink out of the same cup. Being on the road is hard for me in this respect, as things are rarely the same. We have a vague schedule, but the freight always rules. It never fails that when we are one stop from a meal and a shower, everything falls apart. It still pisses me off to arrive with a load and be treated like the receiver had absolutely no idea we were coming. Like it’s completely unusual for a truck to arrive at their warehouse and expect their people to actually unload it. What kind of idiot arrives at a warehouse and expects people to unload their truck? Sheesh. (This is thinly veiled sarcasm. OK, completely unveiled sarcasm.)

“Did that guy just say they weren’t expecting you until Friday?”

“That’s what he said.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Yes it is.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit here until he can find someone to unload us.”

“Um. This is a warehouse. It’s like the hugest warehouse I’ve ever seen. Shouldn’t there be an abundance of people able to unload things in there?”

“They have a schedule, too. Just because we show up when our schedule says we’re supposed to be here doesn’t mean we’re on their schedule.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Go show that man the paperwork that says we’re supposed to be here.”

“That man deals with this about 90 times a day. Just sit tight, it shouldn’t be long.”

“Sit tight? Pfft. I’m gonna write a letter. It’s going to be absolutely scathing.”

“You do that.”

“Who do I address it to? Who’s in charge of this?”

“Start it out with, ‘Dear Every Single Scheduler in the World,’”

“I’m serious.”

“I am too.”