Yeah; I was one of those shmucks that fell for all the recruiting fluff, and leased a truck from C. R. England. Man-Oh-Man did I get an education....
I gave these folks a call back in February, and they had me on a plane headed for Salt lake City in a couple of weeks.
A twenty dollar cab ride from the airport to their corporate headquarters found me starting an undertaking that will probably remain with me the rest of my life.
Upon arrival I followed a sign directing me to check in with the front desk. A young girl in her twenties greets me with one of those looks, and has me fill out some paperwork; hands me an electronic key that opens my "motel room" door; and sends me on my way.
I happily drag my bags up the stairs to my room with the eager anticipation of tossing my stuff on the bed, flicking on the television, and relaxing under a hot shower.
Instead as I open the door; I am greeted with the sight of a dormitory room; the stench of unwashed bodies, clothes strewn everywhere, and some seriously loud snoring coming from a couple of the beds. Somewhere in back of my head I remember the recruiter telling me that England will pay for my motel during orientation.
Looking around I see that there's no place that I can lock-up my bags, and the only bed available is the top bunk against the far wall. There's one small bathroom set in the corner near the door, and that has to provide for the needs of all twelve of the rooms occupants. I toss my bags onto the bed and go searching for a cup of coffee while I have a look around their facility.
The entire second floor is full of dormitory rooms, bathrooms, and some small television rooms. The place has an odor that I don't like. Smells like rotten feet, or something.
This time I take the elevator downstairs. Upon my arrival here, I spotted their company store, a cafeteria, a bank, and a larger television area. I need a cup of coffee, and after paying the same young girl that checked me in; I walk around the many hallways giving everything a look over...
There are a lot of people walking around, and I check my watch, thinking these guys must be waiting on a load or something. I would learn later that C. R. England operates a truck driving school, and there are always people coming and going all hours of the day and night.
The end of the hallway leads me outside to a smoking area. Then I remember that Utah is one of those states that don't allow smoking in public buildings or the workplace.
Once outside, as I'm lighting-up; I see an older guy that must be in his sixties, with a full white beard and mustache, sporting ragged jeans and wearing a lightweight summer jacket. He's sitting amidst a pile of boxes, bags, and assorted stuff. It appears that he just cleaned out his truck, and is waiting on a ride. It's cold outside, and we make small talk.
He doesn't say much, and I can tell that he's lost in thought, or worried about something. Been there a few times myself over the course of the years.
He bums a smoke from me, and asks where I'm from, and so forth. I ask him why he's sitting out here in the cold and dark Utah winter. He just shakes his head and tells me that I wouldn't believe it if he told me.
Whoa! What's going on here? I ask him.
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