Fuck-tard Revisited

Right before he ran out the door today, my dispatcher, the little fuck-tard, sent this message to his trucks;
“Guys, I’m off Friday. Have a great day and a great weekend.”
After locking horns with me about my weekend time, this fuck has the nerve to take a long weekend? See, that’s one of the things that pisses me off. These button-pushers, who make out like truck drivers are a bunch of whiners if they complain about any issue, get to sleep in their own beds every night, and have the weekends off without question. No one’s going to show up on Friday and say “Oh, by the way, you’re working Saturday.”
It’s also funny that he posted that message at 4:59 pm. Hell, if I have a question for my dispatcher, I know to ask him before 5 o’clock, because at 5:01 he’s already gone.
I hope my dispatcher enjoys his long weekened. I’ll be thinking of him when I’m sitting in Philadelphia on Friday morning. And I’ll be thinking of him Saturday morning when I’m still trying to get to Kings Mountain.

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