Warning: I use the word "fuck" a lot in the following post. If you're offended by the word "fuck", or the excessive use thereof, you're probably in the wrong place anyhow. I'm sorry in advance for being such a classless whore.
Today has been the suckiest, hardest, worst day evar. I told Kim, "Today is the day of FUCK. Not the good fuck, either, the bad FUCK. Today is the FUCKiest day of them all."
And you know what the bitch of it is? It was so much worse for other people. At least one.
One of my employees (S) was arrested last night. S got an equipment citation back in December. The fine wasn't paid and the court date wasn't observed, and a bench warrant was issued. At some point after midnight last night, the sheriff's office attempted to serve that warrant - at S's parents' house. You see, the permanent address S uses, the one listed on his commercial driver's license, belongs to his parents. When told S wasn't there, the sheriffs searched the premises. Can you fucking imagine? (Should I mention now that the citation was for a grand total of $192?) Eventually convinced S wasn't there, the sheriffs left and headed to the correct address, where they woke S and his wife and their children at the ungodly hour of 1 a.m. To serve a bench warrant for a commercial equipment violation. For a total of $192 in fines.
I can't even explain the clusterfuck that ensued. I was confused. And scared. Yes, I had a copy of the inspection, but no citation! I pay citations immediately! I give the drivers a copy back, for their personal records! There was a lot of nearly vomit-inducing fear that maybe I'd lost the citation. Oh fuck, can I even begin to explain what that feels like? Like I told Kim, as I sobbed into my paperwork, "It's one thing if I fuck up and someone doesn't get their fucking order. It's another thing entirely if I fuck up and someone's entire fucking life is ripped upside down. A man is in jail!!! Oh my god, what if I've done this?!"
I got in contact with a very nice lady in the county clerk's office where the citation was issued. She put me on hold for a long time, but was kind enough to come back halfway through to ask me to bare with her, that she was working with a new system and taking longer than it should and she was sorry. I love calling people in small towns - they're always so nice. She told me that yes, he was being detained for the $192 citation, and yes, we'd be able to bail him out today. Yes, she was happy to fax me a copy of the citation.
I've never seen it before today. I swear to you, oh lords of the internet, today was the first day I've laid eyes on that ticket. I didn't throw it away erroneously, I didn't lose it. I've never seen it before - it never came to me. I can't take full responsibility for the complete and total FUCK that this is/was. As a manager, of course, I still carry responsibility. There was an associated inspection report that listed a citation number - obviously, I never noticed it or paid it any mind, because I wasn't immediately on S's ass to get me the documentation so I could get the ticket paid. But still.
I had to tell my boss. My boss is a pretty fucking awesome. (I'm using "Fuck" a lot already, what's a few more, right? And I might be a little drunk. That makes it easier to say fuck.) Anyhow. So I had to tell him. I sent an email. "I need to you to call me, please. Call me on my cell when you have a moment." I sat there, with a rock in my stomach, jumping every time I got a fucking email because my fucking blackberry is set up to vibrate every time i get an email AND/OR a phone call. He called on the office line. I started pacing immediately. I do that when I'm on the phone - I pace. I can't help it. He was having lunch at Arby's. He didn't believe the one $192 citation could be the only reason S had been arrested. "There has to be something more to the story, I've been doing this a long time, and I've never heard anything like this." "I talked to the clerks in both counties," I reminded him. "They both say it's only this ticket. I can't help but feel like I've fucked this up somehow." "Did you ignore a citation and not pay it, Natalie?" "No! Of course not! I'm certain I never even saw it!" "Exactly," he said, always the voice of reason. That's why they pay him the big bucks, I guess.
Long story short, C and I spent our afternoon at the courthouse paying the bond. S was released some time around 7 tonight. Poor fucking guy.
But wait. It's not over yet.
S was scheduled to deliver a critical load tomorrow morning. His wife put the smackdown on him running the load. I've spent three hours tonight trying to find an alternative, because I get it. If I were her, I wouldn't want my man leaving me in the wee hours of Good Friday a.m either. And I wouldn't stand for him leaving out only a handful of hours after being arrested, needlessly, for a $192 citation incurred while operating under the employ of the company now asking me to give up a large chunk of my weekend.
Fuck. I didn't have any options, though. I called a dozen carriers; no one can help me. I called S. "If I offer an extra $100, can you make the trip?" I'm not above bribery when in a desperate situation. I don't want to get the man beat by his woman, but he's all I've got - he's got the hours available to make the trip. Any other driver would have to spend the entire weekend three states away - on Easter weekend.
S agreed to take the load. He'll still be home for Easter Sunday, and I've agreed to give him a short run on Monday. And to leave an extra $100 in his box tomorrow night. And I think I'm going to send his wife flowers tomorrow. Bless her heart.
Work is so fucking dumb sometimes. I'm grateful for my job, I am. Days like this are few and far between, but holy FUCK they're hard.
And seriously. We're in a fucking budget crises, and our county is expending - what? - $1500 to serve a warrant for a $192 DOT citation?! When the entire issue could've been solved and paid and all said and done with a simple $0.44 letter saying "YO! Bitches! Pay your fucking fine!!" I would've put that shit in the mail the same day, I fucking promise you.
Ugh. It makes me sick. I only recently stopped feeling like I was going to vomit in response to this entire fucking situation, which has managed to drag on for 14 hours now.
S spent something like 18 hours in jail, so I'm going to shut the fuck up and stop bitching and drink the rest of my beer.
Sweet dreams, friends. I sure hope your day was better than mine. And S's.