Truck driving taught me compulsion. For the most part, my private and professional lives have always been a scattered mess. There was very little, if any, organization or structure in my world. One look at the pile of clothes scattered on my bed would be an indication of things. I had enough presence of mind to wash my garments, but lacked the discipline motivation to put them away properly.
All that changed when I was granted a Class A Commercial Drivers License. There may be some truth in the stereotypes about the people that operate the biggest vehicles on the road, but one thing they aren't is disorganized. Lazy disorganization in this particular line of would, at best, result in an incorrect delivery or a fine from the DOT. In the worst case scenario, it could lead to a catastrophic accident, possibly resulting in death. People that can't keep organized don't keep jobs driving trucks very long.
I learned the attention to detail at my first driving job, delivering beer for a Phoenix-based distributor. Everything had to be accounted for, right down to the plastic pallets the product was stacked on. Coming up short or making paperwork errors meant losing out on bonus incentives, losing money. When the base salary is only twelve hundred dollars every two weeks, the added four hundred a month in possible bonuses is more than just a luxury, it's a necessity. Say what you will about the inherent unfairness of taking food off someone's table based on just one clerical error, it's still legal in Arizona. I had to learn really quick to make sure my paperwork was in order after every shift.
Paperwork doesn't just apply to cargo, there's also a strong regulatory element. Show up at a scale house with the wrong set of permits, registration, or insurance cards; have a nice fine. Forget to fill out a pre-trip inspection, enjoy watching the DOT man fill out a ticket. Make a mistake on your hours of service logs, enjoy getting shut down for a few days and pay more money in fines. Carrying hazardous materials, better have the right manifests and placards on your vehicle. Not only will you face a big fine, but if you truck runs off the road and spills a mislabeled load, people could get hurt or killed responding in the wrong manner.
When I left the world of nice and neat palletized goods, I was introduced to a whole new world of compulsion: flatbedding. Where the man or woman pulling a box trailer or a tanker has the fortune of having their load secured by the vehicle itself, the flatbedder has to come up with a acceptable means on the spot. Chains, binders, straps, tarps, decking; these are the flatbedder's paint, brushes, chisels, canvas, and marble by which he conducts his art.
It is a compulsive art trying to finagle one's way through a sea of codes to make sure something as simple as a warehouse forklift is correctly secured to a deck. What's the weight of said forklift? If it's under ten thousand pounds, it only needs to be secured with two chains, otherwise it's four. But wait, what grade are those chains? Grade 70 three-eights inch? No problem then. Anything in a lower grade or size, and it's gonna be a lot more than four. Are the forks strapped down? If not, that's a ticket. Are my binders the proper grade for the chain? Nope, well that's a ticket too.
Compulsion, attention to detail, these are things no commercial vehicle operator can do without.
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