From there, I went to drop off the heart and veins at our office, for someone else to pick it up later, to be driven to Cincinnati. Tom, my dispatcher, called me prior to me dropping off, to see if I would want it. I was already thin, and didn't really want it. I said "probably not". But then after dropping off, and telling him I might change my mind, if the weather wasn't bad (winter storm coming then), and that I would call him, I changed my mind as I drove away, coming back to pick them up. I figured, why did I say no to a 90 dollar run, when I just lost 480? Dumb me, I felt, so I went and got it. I said no at first because I'm off at 5 usually, and didn't want to drive on ice. The drop off time was 7 A.M. nearly 2 hours away.
So I went home, to eat something, and rest. And started to get a little tired. Kind of kicked myself for volunteering.
Tom called me with another order, which annoyed me, because I wanted to rest up a little. Maybe take a nap. Eat. Not that I had a lot of time. This order was going just a few miles away, in Carmel, to a nursing home. Picking up right where it drops off- Next door. He first called me once and I just watched the phone alert me of the call, grumbling, "you mother fucker", "leave me be"- along those sentiments. He called me right back, so I picked up. I like to wait sometimes and make them call someone else. It gets old being bothered at all possible times for 12 hours. And my patience was a lot times worse right now, given that I was trying to find out how to cancel a payment with Western Union, having collected the information for the order earlier from the vendor, and nearly everything to do with it was fucking automated. Every person referred me to an automated line, which instructed me to fill out a thing at the vendor, and mail it in, where they would research it, and by that time if the order had gone missing, blank, it would be used. It was all rather annoying, and was really strange to me why I couldn't just call them up and say "here is the serial number, I just got it, and lost it. Please stop the payment. Thank you.". Like I was being tested. So I had other things than working on my mind.
But I said yes, first asking if he had anyone else- to which he said, "no, Tracy and someone are picking up organ orders and...", so I said okay.
I went and picked up, in Carmel, on Rangeline, and delivered on Medical. The order was for Kathy Mackey, born 11/9 (birthday is required for verification in many cases). I parked behind a van, at the facility. I didn't recognize it at first, but the numbers were 661, which I recognized, but didn't make a conscious connection at first. I walked to the door and tried to use the month and year to enter, punching it in on the keypad, but it didn't work. I turned around and recognized the vehicle as John Dawson's. John is a courier with us. "WTF". I wondered why Tom told me he had nobody else, when John is there right then. Why he made me come all this way, when John was already there, and likes to just hang out in the area to gather up the runs around there, as that's his route, commonly, 6 days a week. I called the living-facility because I couldn't get in, and a girl came out and let me in, telling me the numbers I pressed were right, but now you have to press star at the end. New keypad. Inside, O'Dowd (or O'Doud, meaning descended from the dark one) signed for the order, and I went looking for John, to see what was going on... If he was asleep, or phone didn't have reception. Nowhere to be found, where I looked, so I left, and called the office, to bitch a little at Tom (I'm always nice though, more asking what happened, informing), but couldn't get in touch with him as he was taking a call. I talked to someone else, a girl- I forget her name as I rarely have to speak with them, and asked for John's number. She was friendly, and gave it to me. I called him, told him about what happened, and he was surprised, and laughing, but also mad enough to say "I've had it", and head home. He had been waiting for two hours at that point. And was passed up. Tom, apparently, didn't know John was on schedule, but he is always on that schedule, and in the area until 4 A.M. It was then about 2.
It had started to sleet.
So I went home, to eat something, and rest. And started to get a little tired. Kind of kicked myself for volunteering.
Tom called me with another order, which annoyed me, because I wanted to rest up a little. Maybe take a nap. Eat. Not that I had a lot of time. This order was going just a few miles away, in Carmel, to a nursing home. Picking up right where it drops off- Next door. He first called me once and I just watched the phone alert me of the call, grumbling, "you mother fucker", "leave me be"- along those sentiments. He called me right back, so I picked up. I like to wait sometimes and make them call someone else. It gets old being bothered at all possible times for 12 hours. And my patience was a lot times worse right now, given that I was trying to find out how to cancel a payment with Western Union, having collected the information for the order earlier from the vendor, and nearly everything to do with it was fucking automated. Every person referred me to an automated line, which instructed me to fill out a thing at the vendor, and mail it in, where they would research it, and by that time if the order had gone missing, blank, it would be used. It was all rather annoying, and was really strange to me why I couldn't just call them up and say "here is the serial number, I just got it, and lost it. Please stop the payment. Thank you.". Like I was being tested. So I had other things than working on my mind.
But I said yes, first asking if he had anyone else- to which he said, "no, Tracy and someone are picking up organ orders and...", so I said okay.
I went and picked up, in Carmel, on Rangeline, and delivered on Medical. The order was for Kathy Mackey, born 11/9 (birthday is required for verification in many cases). I parked behind a van, at the facility. I didn't recognize it at first, but the numbers were 661, which I recognized, but didn't make a conscious connection at first. I walked to the door and tried to use the month and year to enter, punching it in on the keypad, but it didn't work. I turned around and recognized the vehicle as John Dawson's. John is a courier with us. "WTF". I wondered why Tom told me he had nobody else, when John is there right then. Why he made me come all this way, when John was already there, and likes to just hang out in the area to gather up the runs around there, as that's his route, commonly, 6 days a week. I called the living-facility because I couldn't get in, and a girl came out and let me in, telling me the numbers I pressed were right, but now you have to press star at the end. New keypad. Inside, O'Dowd (or O'Doud, meaning descended from the dark one) signed for the order, and I went looking for John, to see what was going on... If he was asleep, or phone didn't have reception. Nowhere to be found, where I looked, so I left, and called the office, to bitch a little at Tom (I'm always nice though, more asking what happened, informing), but couldn't get in touch with him as he was taking a call. I talked to someone else, a girl- I forget her name as I rarely have to speak with them, and asked for John's number. She was friendly, and gave it to me. I called him, told him about what happened, and he was surprised, and laughing, but also mad enough to say "I've had it", and head home. He had been waiting for two hours at that point. And was passed up. Tom, apparently, didn't know John was on schedule, but he is always on that schedule, and in the area until 4 A.M. It was then about 2.
It had started to sleet.