Fuel for Thought

Your Mess, Our Reputation

There’s a mystery out here on the road that I’ve never been able to solve, and trust me, I’ve had plenty of hours behind the wheel to think about it. It’s not why shippers take three hours to load two pallets. It’s not why every receiver seems shocked that a truck actually showed up at the time they scheduled. No, the real puzzle is this: why can’t so many truck drivers use a trash can. Not locate one, not walk to one, not even acknowledge one. Just use it. It’s like hoping the guy in front of you at the fuel island will actually move when he’s done.
You can pull into a truck stop that has more trash cans than parking spaces. They’re everywhere, at the fuel island, at the end of the rows, by the doors, next to the shop, practically waving at you like friendly little plastic cheerleaders, and yet, somehow, the ground is still decorated with coffee cups, fast food bags, banana peels, and the occasional mystery jug that nobody wants to talk about. It’s like a scavenger hunt nobody asked for.
I’ve watched drivers finish a meal, open their door, and just drop the bag right there in the lot. Not even a flick of the wrist toward the bin, just plop, done, moving on with their day. Meanwhile the trash can is sitting ten feet away, probably feeling insulted. If trash cans had feelings, truck stops would be full of them in therapy trying to figure out why they are so neglected.
And it’s not just truck stops, customers’ facilities get hit even harder. You’d think people would be on their best behavior when they’re on someone else’s property, but no, some drivers treat a customer’s yard like it’s their personal landfill. I’ve seen pallets tucked behind guard shacks, bottles left in loading bays, and entire bags of trash abandoned next to the fence like someone was making an offering to the shipping gods, then they all act surprised when customers start banning overnight parking or putting up signs that basically say “Drivers, please behave like adults.”
The thing is, this stuff sticks in everyone’s minds, a few drivers trash a place and suddenly every driver is the problem. It doesn’t matter if you’re the kind of person who sweeps out your cab and walks your garbage to the trash can like a civilized human being, you get lumped in with the ones who treat the parking lot like a wind powered trash distribution system. And once a customer decides truck drivers are messy, that reputation spreads faster than a rumor on the CB.
What gets me is how easy the solution is. Nobody’s asking for a workout. Nobody’s asking you to haul a fifty pound bag of garbage across the state. It’s a few steps, maybe ten, okay, maybe fifteen if you parked like you were hiding from the law. Let’s be honest, I’ve seen many of you out here, a tiny bit of walking wouldn’t hurt. It might even help you pass that next physical exam without having to negotiate with the nurse about your blood pressure or your weight. That tiny bit of effort pays off in ways people don’t think about. Cleaner lots mean happier customers. Happier customers mean more places that let us park. More places to park means fewer nights spent circling truck stop after rest area searching for a safe parking spot like a buzzard looking for a carcass. It’s a win for everyone.
But the real reason to use the trash can is simple, we’re professionals. At least, that’s what we keep telling everyone. We want respect on the road, respect at the dock, respect from the public. Well, respect is a two-way street. If we want people to treat us like the skilled workers we are, we can start by not leaving a trail of garbage behind us like we’re marking our territory.
So the next time you’re about to drop that cup or toss that bag, take a second and look around. Odds are, there’s a perfectly good trash can nearby, just waiting to feel useful. Give it a job. It’s literally built for it. And who knows, maybe if enough of you start using them, we’ll finally solve one of trucking’s greatest mysteries.

If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.
-  Eldridge Cleaver

See you down the road,
Greg