Tales on the Courier Shift: Large Packages (and those that lack one)

On this episode of "Tales on the Courier Shift," I get to see the worst side of customer service, as in the side that's lacking. I get it, service jobs are hard and have their share of difficulties. However, that gives nobody free license to act like complete a-holes to their peers, regardless if they're not working for the same company. We're all trying to make a living here so spending additional energy to make someone else's day a bit more difficult is a bit counter-productive and downright cruel.

What makes this incident particularly more evil was that I was being targeted specifically for the vehicle I was operating. I received the brunt end of the rage of the night manager of C&O Cucina (3016 Washington Blvd., Marina del Rey, CA 90292) because of an unfounded fear that I was going to destroy the very food that I was being paid to deliver. Obviously, my role there was not to sabotage a delivery, but there he was, giving me a hard time in front of other delivery drivers.

Tales on the Courier Shift: Close Calls Amid the Boredom

In this episode, I have a couple rough days on courier duty. From January 29-30, 2015, workflow was slow and I was left to pass the time waiting for the next delivery request to come along. In addition, I had a near head-on collision from a vehicle who decided to use my direct path of travel as a dangerous passing lane. Needless to say, the burrito and free horchata at the end of the night was well deserved. As fun as it was to be a courier, it did have its workplace hazards, not to mention that I was sitting duck as an independent contractor with minimum health insurance. But bills had to be paid while I kept trying to find something more stable for work. 

Tales on the Courier Shift: Some guys are from Mars, but there are women who understand you.

I had to pull from the archives for this collection of posts.

Two months after I came home to Southern California for my last job in the motorcycle industry as an assistant parts manager, I was laid off in April 2014 along with a service tech, service writer, and the janitor. That sudden turn of events forced me to scramble for a source of income, and after a bit of research I came across an up-and-coming on-demand courier service based out of Santa Monica looking for motorcycle riders for work. So Eleanor and I headed out there and became a part of the original fleet for Postmates Los Angeles. I even wrote an article about my courier work that ended up in Women On Wheels® magazine in early 2015. I worked for Postmates until February 2015 when I switched over to another delivery company and was there until about January 2016. The last company in my delivery life (so far) had me relegated to my car for the most part, but there are some interesting tales from that.

Tales from the Battle Wagon - how a slightly broken BMW repaired a part of my heart.

I may call myself the Two-Wheeled Tourist, but I wouldn't be where I am now without a little help from my four-wheeled companion, a 1999 BMW 528i (E39) wagon in Oxford Green Metallic.

I acquired this vehicle in May 2011 as a replacement to my beloved 2003 Subaru Outback that found its demise in a collision in the middle of Columbus, Ohio after an impromptu makeout session with a 1993 Honda Civic hatchback at the hands of a roommate. Luckily, I wasn't the one driving the car when this happened; however, the things that did happen to me not much long after the acquisition of this BMW were a clear sign that my time inhabiting the Midwest was coming to an end.

Here's the wagon the day I bought it. I set it free, and it would return the favor several years later.

I was the third owner of this wagon, inheriting it at 102,000 miles on the odometer. It was far from perfect; several hundred dollars from the remainder of my insurance claim check were invested to replace broken pieces, the radiator, and other minor details (thank you eBay and Bavarian Autosport). At first, I didn't like this car very much, but the reasons were more emotional than logical. I missed my Subaru and was quite bitter about the way that car met its end - like in many aspects of my life in Ohio, out of my control and without a satisfying solution or conclusion. This "replacement" of a wagon took a little getting used to because of its larger frame and heavier handling than the nimbler Outback that took me through college and my first foray into a teaching career. The new (to me) car had a large set of tires to fill; replacing what was my escape vehicle before I became a full-fledged motorcyclist was going to be a tough undertaking.

To my 20s...a word or two before you go.

To my 20s...you were a tough customer, but I'll have to thank you for that.

The second decade of life is a privilege that, in the world that I live in, is both hated and cherished at the some time. Many can't wait until they get to this point, and then loathe many of the days that they now have to live through just to escape it.

I am grateful for even making it this far in this body, considering that it was enough of a challenge to even establish my existence on this planet (there is a story behind that). Regardless, my circumstances have been kind and my path has been gentle in the scope of the current state of the universe.

In the last ten years, I've found myself in several diverse careers that have bounced me all over the place, sculpted my unique skillset, and have given me the tools to survive and thrive in an inhospitable economy.

I've been able to continue playing hockey, the sport I love, despite multiple injuries that have threatened my tenure in front of the net.

I have traversed the United States and Canada in a style reserved to the fortunate with "bucket lists" and a lot of time. And I did the majority of those journeys alone with nothing but my dear Eleanor, my wits, and at times, an unreal level of emotional and intestinal fortitude.

With that being said, the same motorcycle responsible in the previous statement has surpassed the distance halfway from the Earth to the Moon and is still determined to make it all the way there.

I've moved at least five times in my life and I still don't have a reason to settle down.

I now know what it's like to hit mental rock bottom, and know that, for as long as there is a breath in me there is still hope and a reason to keep fighting for what's important.

I've learned to love another person as much as myself, lose that love, and embark on a path toward finding that love again.

I've lived many lifetimes in my journeys and I'm far from finished.

I still refuse to just stand still and let opportunities to learn pass me by.

And lastly, I've learned to accept the things that I cannot control, accept the people who do not understand me, and let time run its course. Because really, everything does fall into place. But the path there can be a hell of a ride. Just hold on.

It would be way too cliché to try to wrap up the 3,652 days that have passed between the time I put a "2" in the tens place of my age and now in a blog post, but that's not what this is for. This is simply a reminder that I'm more than all right...I'm more than prepared for the next round.

I would state this in closing:

I survived my 20s, but I did more than just "survive." I defeated it and came back with trophies and lessons to last the rest of my natural life.

The ups and downs in my journey cemented my resolve to continue moving forward and focusing my eyes toward the horizon.

My family and friends rallied behind me when I was at my worst and celebrated me when I was at my best. And I am forever grateful for that. 

Even in my darkest moments, there was something or someone out there to find me and bring things back into perspective again, even if just for a fleeting moment.  

And dammit, be easy on yourself! In the end, it'll all be okay.

Ad astra per aspera. To the stars through my difficulties. Bring on tomorrow. Take it home, Barry.

The 2013 SoCal Holiday Excursion Recap: Part 3

**This is a recap of my vacation back to Southern California from 12/28/13-1/9/14.**

It is usually a cliche to say "new year, new start." For me, this particular New Year was the beginning of many new starts that will unfold throughout this year and for many years to come. I was off on the motorcycle early to begin writing (and in some cases, re-writing) several new adventures in my personal saga.

I opened the morning with ride through the Palos Verdes Peninsula and the switchbacks of Palos Verdes Drive East. For those who have ridden with me, it's what I've called "the lunch ride." For this particular morning, the marine layer was just starting to burn off so I had a few moments to gather my thoughts from the outlook of the Starbucks that faced the ocean.

My first order of business was to bring closure to a lengthy story that began six years ago at this exact same spot and ride away with a resolve to search for a much better life.

How to un-suck the holiday season. Be the better person.

Frankly, the holidays can go bite my left ear.

Although my level of seasonal depression fluctuates from year to year, 2013 has reached an all-time high of super suck. Sure I may be having a good time for a couple days out of these several weeks, with the food, hugs, well-wishes, etc. But really, regardless of how much I'm involved, there comes a moment when I'm here sitting by myself in some state of loneliness wondering why everything had to crash down on me at once right before the holidays. Perfect timing, huh?

Preparing to wrap up a 3rd decade of breathing.

So I'm 29 today. Holy moly...I'm just a year away from changing the number in the tens column. Time flies when you're living.

I can easily say that, by far, this year has been one of the more difficult ones to date. From the long commutes between Cleveland and Columbus to the consolidation to one apartment up here in the north to the job layoff from one motorcycle store to recall to new job (and I'll probably talk more about my new motorcycle store digs in a future post). I can't do much about an employer going out of business, but I am grateful that another place thought I had potential working for them.

And I get to add a wonderful friend dying, a wonderful rat dying, and other life messes that I really hope I won't have extrapolate on soon pending hopeful negotiations or some willingness to even head in that direction.

Day 3: A Gas Shortage in Iowa, near Waterloo. Couldn't escape if I wanted to.

**This series of posts recap my two-week trip to Billings, MT and back from July 1-16, 2013. For the entire list of my featured rides, click here.**

Murphy's Law: "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

I don't know who you are, Murphy, but if I ever meet you in a parking lot, you're getting a swift kick to the nuts.

At least the first part of the day was just fine and dandy. Actually it wasn't.

Another Suitcase in Another Hall...and where have I been?

It's nearly the end of June, and I find myself not having posted here to the Two-Wheeled Tourist in a month and a half and up at 4:30AM EST on a Monday. But this time, it's not because I'm on I-71 northbound out of Columbus on 2.5-hour drive to work.

My largest pet rat, Bandit, leapt from the cage onto my husband's face and scurried into the closet. Fortunately Bandit wasn't hurt from the incident, and he was freaked out enough that he actually was fine with us picking him up. Because of that and the fact that it's nearly 80 degrees in the bedroom, I can't sleep. So screw that, I just turned the air on again and I'm blogging.

Here is the rodent in question, my 1.2 lb. giant cuddlebug named Bandit. It's not the first time he's fallen off the cage, but after much practice in the art of freefalling, he really put on the dramatics.

A lot has happened since we last chatted in May, everything from an impending detour in my motorcycle career to preparations for July's Women On Wheels® International Ride-In™ that's happening in Billings, MT, of which I am an event co-chair. Along with a random, debilitating back spasm that had me suffering the worst pain in my life for several hours a few weeks ago, it seems like every day has been a surprise and a half. Some surprises quite nice and others, well, you get the idea.

For starters, it's not a good thing when my boss calls both me and my co-worker into the office, at the same time, on the Tuesday after Memorial Day and he doesn't have drinks and a cake on his desk. After declining sales over a few years, my employer, Premier Cycle Accessories is changing its business direction and shutting down its accessory sales division. As a result, my position will be eliminated first and eventually, both of us will be laid-off as merchandise is liquidated and the lease on the building space ends in September. My demise was scheduled to be much sooner, but with the calendar trickling into July and I'm still headed to work later this morning, my eventual departure has been delayed a little bit.

It's so not fun to make graphics for newsletters that look like this:

Nothing says "depressing" like designing announcements that foreshadow your eventual offing.

Crap. What do I do now? Beside the obvious "look for another job" part, this moment in time has given me an opportunity to take a step back and look at all the things I've accomplished as a professional in the motorcycle industry. For the most part, I've enjoyed the ride so far and would like to continue down this career path. The challenge, however, is finding another awesome company who wants to add me to their team. That may require some possibilities outside of Ohio. And as I continue the battle of acclimating myself to the Midwest, I'm realizing that California may not be the most ideal place at this moment in time. As to whether or not I'll still be living in NE Ohio after the summer, I can't even predict my future that far ahead. More to come on that discussion eventually...

In addition to that, Eleanor finally returned to me after a near 3.5 month stint on injured reserve. To make a long story short, what started out as the bike not starting and a "crankshaft position sensor error" (Error Code 12 for you FJR1300 owners out there) later evolved into exploratory surgery, a trip to the mechanic, a bad starter relay, and a deteriorated fuel line. I'm just glad to have her back again and running just as nice as she did before. As much as I enjoy putting around on Matt's 2008 Piaggio BV250 (which was finally repaired right after Eleanor went down), it's not exactly the same thing.

Dammit, it's good to have you two back in action again, at the same time.

Despite all this, I'm still going on "work-cation" and heading back West to the huge motorcycle-induced party that I've helped plan since August 2012. The next few posts will be a lot less drama and a lot more riding as Eleanor and I travel to our 6th WOW International Ride-In™ together. I'm taking a different approach to the route to reach Billings, MT to seek out new sights and also to remember a dear friend who taught me, through example, that the greatest adventures come from roads less traveled. Stay tuned!

Lastly, if you're wondering about the reference to "Another Suitcase in Another Hall," just watch some Madonna. Good morning, people.