One Darned Setback after Another!

I heard an interesting comment on the radio the other day about cinema trailers.  It seems that the modern trend is to include all the most gripping scenes from the film in the trailer, and there is almost as much hype and excitement at the release of the trailer as there is for the film itself.  How different from my young days, when the trailer gave just an idea of the contents, and you just had to watch the film itself to see how it all worked out.

That was rather the pattern for this week - the best job was the first one, and it went sort of downhill from there.  This consisted of taking a mould tool to a factory in Sheffield, waiting for a while, and then bringing back some samples of what it had produced in operation.  By the time I left, not much of Monday remained after the job was completed.

Tuesday's sole job was to a local hospital, and was but the first of a number this week that have included some significant unforeseen delay.  Usually when I've served this combination of customer and hospital, I've delivered to the theatre which, though not well-marked, is easily accessible from the outside.  I had a number of fairly small but weighty items, and I had delivered about two thirds of them - necessitating several trips from the van to the hallway, waiting to obtain access to the theatre area, taking them to the delivery point and returning to the van.  My contact then had a phone call explaining that this particular consignment was required in another department; their supplier (our customer) had been told this: why was I taking them into the theatre?  Answer, the message hadn't got as far as me (not an unknown situation by far!)  The upshot was that I was shown the shortest way from where I was to the required department (and learned that to deliver there would have been easier than to the theatre in the first place.)  I then made several more trips to redeliver the items I'd already taken into the theatre, and to deliver the remainder.  I was glad in some ways to spend the rest of the day at my desk, 'recovering.'

Wednesday morning saw me given a straightforward job for Camberley.  However, by the time I'd ground to a halt on the M25 it was fairly clear that there was a major hold-up several miles in front of me, and quite a while before I would reach the next junction to take a diversion.  When I did so, I had to go several miles out of my way to get to my destination.  The return journey was trouble-free, but the southbound side of the M25 was still clogged - even if there didn't seem to be an obvious reason. 

In the evening I took a small parcel of point-of-sale materials to a shop being refurbished in the middle of Crewe.  There should have been a phone no. for me to call on arrival in order to make the delivery, but this wasn't to hand when I picked up the goods.  I set off, expecting a text message en route with the necessary details.  I was well on my way when the call eventually arrived, and I had to remind the evening controller that, since I was driving, I would be unable to write the number down, so why hadn't he texted me as arranged?  When I arrived I found the shop just by the entrance to the shopping mall, and even at 8.0pm, there were staff present, cleaning and polishing.  I imagine the grand opening was imminent.  I had no need of that phone no. after all ... which was as well because the site manager, I was told, had left some hours ago.

On Thursday, I was sent to what I described as 'the fish capital of England,' much to the amusement of the young chap who opened the door at the pick-up.  The consignment was a large box of security equipment, to be taken to a Grimsby filling station in the process of refurbishment (it must be the season for this!)  This proved to be no problem, and no sooner had I reported to the site office and returned to the van, than there was an engineer at my side to relieve me of my charge, and I could return to the unfolding story of England's defeat of the New Zealanders in the opening match of  cricket's Champions' League.

Friday was a sequence of delays.  It began with an 8.0 pick-up from Cambridge.  I turned up a couple of minutes late, but the folks there were in some doubt as to what I was collecting.  A phone call to an absent colleague settled this problem, and I was soon on my way to Burton-upon-Trent.  All was well until I got partway along the A14, where I sat for something like half-an-hour.  Word came from others in the queue that four lorries had been involved in a collision two junctions ahead of us.  Eventually we moved, only to stop again a mile or so up the road.  This time, however, I was within spitting distance of a side turning (one of those minor junctions that prevents that road becoming a motorway), and I was able to escape through the villages, and join the road again beyond the problem.

Returning midway through the afternoon, I was asked to divert to do a favour for a customer before reporting to the office - to deliver a barbecue from their premises to a house in Hitchin.  The centre of Hitchin had been closed because a lorry had broken down.  I then went to a hospital to collect some medicines for a housebound patient in Letchworth - the staff on the ward were all over the place, and no one seemed sure just what I was collecting.  This was eventually resolved, and my reward was the fascination of using a secret code to obtain the door-key and let myself into the house to make the delivery, coupled with the lady's immense gratitude for my arrival.

Time was then getting on, and I was asked if I minded working on, since there were other jobs to be done.  Nothing vital this time - just a box of wine for a lady in an office in Wellingborough.  This was a strange job from the outset, because when I collected it, it was already past normal office closing time.  Little surprise, therefore, when I arrived to find the cleaners in residence, and the security official at reception, unable to accept deliveries.  I adopted a helpless, we're-in-this-together attitude and, after a few seconds silent stand-off, my sympathy with his situation of not being told that this was on its way won the day: he signed and I emerged, empty-handed and satisfied, to go and look for some tea.

Yesterday, with work finished for the week, was possibly the most exhausting day.  I drove up to Bury St Edmunds, where I spent the day at Suffolk Record Office, sorting out missing reference numbers for my almost-finished project on the Sturgeon families of Stanton.  By the time I'd driven home I wasn't really tired, but equally couldn't really focus my attention on anything serious.  Never mind, I told myself, my annual holiday is just around the corner.

More news of that when it does arrive!