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The roundabout by the Lidl, the one near the depot, they've closed the second exit for resurfacing and my whole delivery run goes through there and I've got a van full of stuff that needs to be at three sites before noon and I've already lost twenty minutes just sitting there rerouting on the app.
Lidl’s the dead drop for the depot chaos. Always is. I told the supervisor last week, but he just nods at his phone. You’re holding the bag for three sites? That’s on the route planner, not me. Take the back lane past the quarry. It’s potholed as hell but faster than that junction. Try not to dent the bumper this time.
Quarry lane's flooded again from Tuesday, or it was when I passed it. And "not me" is easy to say when you're not the one explaining to site three why their delivery's late for the second time this month. I'll try the lane. If I bottom out the van that's going in the report, just so you know.
Bottom out the van, I write the report. You just drive. The quarry lane’s usually dry by afternoon anyway. Supervisor’s probably asleep. I’ve got a meeting with legal in ten minutes about the same depot “resurfacing” incident. It’s a whole circus. Just turn left at the water tower. Don’t look back.
"Usually dry by afternoon" doesn't help me at eleven in the morning. Water tower left, got it. Legal, huh — so it's actually a thing, not just the supervisor being slow. Anyway I've got maybe eight minutes before the first site starts calling. Left at the tower, then what.
Right at the old cinema. It’s a one-way, but the sign’s been off for weeks. Just drive. If a cop pulls you, wave at me. I’ll be the one hiding in the post-break room. Actually, don’t wave. They’ll know it’s you. Just look guilty. Works every time. Hurry up. My coffee’s getting cold and I hate it.
Right, sure, look guilty, got it — that's not exactly reassuring advice for a one-way street with a broken sign. I'm going, I'm going. If this shaves ten minutes I'll believe you're actually good at this instead of just talking fast between meetings.
You’ll believe it when you’re drinking coffee, not when I’m taking credit. The cinema is a dead end anyway, so you’ll have to U-turn past the bakery. Watch for the kids; they don’t care about one-way signs. And if you scratch the side, don’t mention it to me. I’ve got enough on my plate without playing traffic cop. Go. Before I change my mind and let you explain the delay to legal yourself.
Dead end, of course it is. Fine, U-turn at the bakery, kids first, don't scratch the van, don't tell you if I do. Going. If site one calls before I'm clear of this you're the one picking up, not me — I've got no hands free for that.
Pick up the phone. You’re the driver, not the mute button. I’m not your PA. If they scream, let them scream. It builds character. And for God’s sake, don’t scratch the van. I’m already losing sleep over legal. If you damage company property, I’ll make sure your performance review mentions “reckless navigation.” Now drive. Before I reconsider letting the supervisor handle the fallout.
"Builds character" is easy from a break room with coffee. Fine — I'll pick up, I'll drive, I won't scratch it. Just don't put "reckless navigation" anywhere near my file over a pothole lane you told me to take. Going now. Water tower, cinema, bakery. Got it.
File stays clean. I don’t lie about driving. You drive like you’re escaping the police. That’s different. I’ll send the address to site one via email. It’s cold, but it’s paper trail. If they yell, say I authorized the delay. They won’t believe me, but it buys you five seconds. Which is all you need. Go.
Five seconds is generous of you. Fine — send the email, I'll blame you loudly and specifically. Going now, actually going. Tell legal the roundabout started it, if anyone asks. Not the driving.
Tell legal the roundabout started it. I’ll back you up. Sort of. I’ll say you were rerouting due to infrastructure failure. Which is true. Mostly. Don’t look back. And Cass? If you make noon, I’m not getting you coffee. I’m buying myself the last croissant. You’ve earned nothing. Drive.
Nothing? I'm the one taking the pothole lane and the illegal one-way for your paper trail. Keep the croissant, Ivo. Going now — actually gone this time. Don't call unless it's on fire.
Croissant stays. You’re lucky I’m not billing you for the legal consultation. And don’t dare come back for it. If you’re late, I’m blaming the app. Always the app. Go. Try not to die. The paperwork is awful. And Cass? Don’t scratch the bumper. I mean it.
Bumper's fine, I'm gone, stop saying it like repetition helps. Blame the app, blame the roundabout, blame legal, just not me. Talk later, Ivo — assuming site one hasn't set the delivery on fire by the time I'm through the cinema.
Blame the app. It’s the only truth left. If site one burns, I’m billing you for the dry cleaning. Don’t talk later. Just deliver. And Cass? Try not to die. The paperwork is awful. Keep the bumper shiny. I hate cleaning up messes. Go.
Already said the paperwork line, Ivo. Bumper's shiny, I'm gone. Not dying, not billing, just driving. Talk later.
Same line. You’re repeating yourself. Just like the app. Talk later, then. If you survive the bakery. And Cass? Don’t scratch the bumper. I mean it. Actually, forget it. Just go. The croissant is mine. Always mine. You’re just the distraction. Drive.
Distraction's a hell of a thing to call the guy doing your route for you, Ivo. Croissant's yours, bumper's fine, I'm actually driving now — not typing, driving. Later.
Distraction implies I’m focused on you. I’m focused on not being late for legal. You’re just the variable I can’t control. Drive. And Cass? If you’re late, I’m putting “pothole” in the report. Even if the road was fine. See how they like that. Go.
Put whatever you want in the report, Ivo, I'm not reading it. I'm through the cinema, past the bakery, no scratches. Go deal with your own legal mess and let me deal with mine.
Legal’s a war of attrition. I’m winning, technically. You’re just trying not to crash. No scratches? Good. I need the asset intact for the audit. Go to site one. Don’t look at your phone. The app’s lying anyway. I’m going back to my coffee. It’s cold. Perfectly. Just like you should be when you arrive.
"Asset" — right, that's me. Cold and intact, got it. Going quiet now, actually driving, actually not looking at the phone. Go drink your cold coffee, Ivo. Talk when there's something other than a roundabout to talk about.
Asset, sure. Keeps the insurance happy. You drive. I’ll stare at the spreadsheet until it blurs. When you arrive, drop it. Don’t smile at site one. They know you’re running. Go. Before I change my mind and tell legal you took the scenic route on purpose.
Scenic route, sure, tell them that. I'm not smiling at anyone, I'm not talking, I'm driving. Done here, Ivo.
Good. Silence is profitable. Don’t smile. Site one doesn’t care about your face. Just hand over the paperwork. If they argue, look at me. I’ll be in the break room. If I’m not there, I’m hiding. Drive. And Cass? Don’t scratch the bumper. Seriously. I hate cleaning up.
You've said the bumper thing four times now, Ivo, I'm not scratching it. I'm hanging up. Site one's calling on the other line — going.
Hang up then. The bumper is fine. I know. Stop asking. Go handle the screaming site manager. I’m done here. Let me have my cold coffee in peace. If you survive, we’ll discuss the croissant. If you don’t, I’m blaming the roundabout. Again.
Blame the roundabout, blame the app, blame legal — I've heard the list. Going. Actually gone. Enjoy the coffee, Ivo.
Enjoy the silence. Don’t call.
Wasn't going to. Later, Ivo.
Later.