A Most Bizarre Encounter

Just south of Winston-Salem. Finally got a load and got out of Greensboro.
I had the most bizarre encounter with Lord Fuck-tard. After I dropped my load in Greensboro and did the Safety dance, I went back to the truck, expecting to be dispatched on something. I told dipshit that I was ready roll. When I hadn’t heard from him in over an hour, I again told him that I was ready to roll. This time he responded. He asked me if I wanted to work (meaning work into the weekend) or go home. I told him I’d rather go home, that I had some things to do on Saturday (yeah, like playing World of Warcraft). What followed was an exchange spread over two hours.
Fuck-tard started it by asking me if he had missed a message from me earlier in the week (meaning had I told him that I specifically needed to be home on Saturday). I told him I hadn’t requested to be off Saturday, but had just assumed I would be there. He went off the deep end, chastising me for not letting him know ahead of time that I wanted to be home on Saturday. After all, what if the load planner had needed me to deliver on Saturday? I knew what the deal was at Epes. On and on and on. I slapped back, of course. I told him that I was sitting there looking at two of our trailers in the shop, and on the backs of both of them, in red letters, was the phrase “Home Weekends”. I asked him if he needed the phone number listed below that, so he could call and check on that. Well, that got us into the old “you should know by now” debate about how sometimes you might get home on Saturday instead of Friday, and on and on. I slapped back by pointing out that he had asked me if I wanted to work or go home, which lead me to assume that going home was an option.
I won’t go into any more detail here. It was just a bizarre, insane encounter. He asked me a question, and when I answered it he went off the deep end. I actually finally began to see how unhinged this sumbitch is. His issue was that I had had the audacity to make plans without first clearing it with him and the load planner. My God, I had acted like I had a life outside of that truck or something. That’s a dangerous, revolutionary concept, isn’t it? That’s an over-simplification, of course, but it rings true. His issue was that I had assumed that I’d be going home. I honestly believe that from his perspective, I should assume that I’m going to be working every weekend, not going home.
I’ve put off changing dispatchers because I’m not all that sure that my next one would be any better. But at this point this has become personal. Just like he went off on me about the fuel stop earlier in the week. Yeah, I get it. We’re supposed to stop at assigned fuel stops. But I missed one. Instead of just making his point and moving on, he hammered at me for over an hour about it. And yes, I pushed back. You don’t pop off at me and walk away from it without a rebuttal. It’s just not done.
So, this is personal. And it’s time to stop it. The only way to stop it is to stop having any interaction with him.
I sat there for three hours, battling it out with him. And they had no load for me. Maybe that was the issue. They didn’t have anything to get me home, so I was the asshole for expecting that I’d be headed toward Kings Mountain at some point. They finally put a load on me, though, which delivers Monday morning in Charlotte. I finally was able to put the stench of Greensboro behind me.
Right now, it’s Friday. It’s a pretty day. I’m barreling toward Kings Mountain with Afroskull blasting on the stereo. At the moment the day does not entirely suck. I’ll have to deal with this asshole again next week, but right now I’m done with him for awhile.

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