I’m sitting in a restaurant with my wife and daughter. It’s a nice restaurant. I know this because it has those heavy napkins. Not common paper napkins, but clean white napkins made from cotton linen, hemstitched and wrapped around real silverware which also feel heavy in my hands. These are some of the clues you can use to identify posh eateries.
I’m at home, I’m on home time. I’ve parked the truck, kissed my wife, thrown all my clothes in the laundry and spent twenty minutes in the shower scrubbing off several thousand miles of road grime. Now my wife, daughter, and I are out for a nice meal.
Here’s what I notice. First of all, there are women in this restaurant. Like, lots of women. There is one table in the corner that is exclusively female. Wearing nice dresses and make up. I notice this because it is such a different picture than what I’m used to seeing.
Trucking; what a sausage fest. I am slowly realizing how few females I come in contact with during a normal week. This is strange for me because most of my previous employment has been in office environments, where my Y chromosomes have been in the minority. I’m used to being the odd guy out, literally.
Why don’t more women enter the transportation industry? Discuss.
Other things I’ve noticed while I’ve been at home. How much I miss toilet paper. The good, 3 ply paper, on rolls so big and soft you can use them for pillows. You know those small, flimsy dryer sheets that gas stations and rest stops pass off as toilet paper? Imagine using only that for weeks on end.
It’s also nice being in one place. Being over the road, by definition, means that you are always headed somewhere. That is what they are paying you for, to move stuff from one place to another. As such, you are never here nor there, you are always in transit. It’s nice to just arrive. And stay arrived for a day or two.
Finally, it’s good to be home. When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was get away from my house. Now, all I can think about is getting back home.
Be careful what you wish for.
And, as soon as I’ve got the laundry done, the grime washed off, and my stomach filled with hearty, non-truck stop food, it’s time to pack everything back up and get on the road again.
Maybe there is no difference between the time we have, and the time we spend waiting for the time we want.