Typical Day
Bob Cantos steps out of the shower to the sound of his ringtone. He double-checks the clock on the nightstand. Yep, 8:00AM. He's not late for work, and his friends and family know better than to try to reach him at this hour...no. Must be a client. He sighs, and answers his cell.
"Bob Cantos," he says curtly.
"Hi Bob, Auggie Loggerman here of Aug's Logs. I've got a thousand logs that need to get to San Antonio by weekend."
Bob quickly opens his notebook and thumbs to the "L" section. He finds Loggerman halfway down the page: Alaska. "That's right,"he thinks.
"End of week is tight," Bob says, doing some quick math on the corner of a nearby piece of scrap paper. "Don't they have their own trees in Texas?"
Auggie laughs at that. "No log like an Aug Log, Aug always says. It's tight, but that's what you logistics boys are good for, right? Logistics...can't say logistics without 'log.' Too bad we can't get an 'Aug' in there, too. Log-aug-gistics? How about that, Bob? Log-aug-gistics."
Bob places his cell phone on speaker, and tosses it at the bed while he pulls on some underpants. "It is way too early for this," he thinks, trying to remember what on Earth he was thinking starting his own logistics firm.
"Okay, so, a thousand logs?" Bob asks, ignoring Auggie's digression. "Is that an exact count?"
"Uh...no. No it's not," Auggie says. "Do you need it exact, Bob?"
"Yeah, we're not going to go standard on this one," he says, turning off speaker and cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he buttons his shirt. "I need length, width, height, weight, and an exact count, alright? You have my email?"
"I do."
"Alright. I think we can get there—no promises just yet—but if we do, it's going to be tight."
"I'm not...barking up the wrong tree using you for these logs, am I, Bob?"
Bob can almost hear the man's smile through the phone.
"Get it, Bob?" Auggie continues. "Bark? Tree? For the logs?"
"I get it, I get it," Bob says. "Very...hilarious. Anyway, send me that email, and I'll get back with you this afternoon with the details."
Bob finishes getting ready, takes a granola bar from the pantry, grabs his keys, and rushes to the garage. He won't get in trouble for being late—he's the boss after all—but in his mind, that's all the more reason to be on time.
He looks at the clock on the dashboard of his car and decides to take Peterson St. to the office instead of the highway, ignoring the repeated protestations of his GPS. After about six minutes, the GPS quiets and re-draws a map that agrees with Bob's route. He arrives two minutes earlier than its original prediction.
Despite his early arrival, both of his two employees are already at their desk by the time he comes in. He tells Sarah about Auggie and leaves Thomas to attend to regular work.
"So let me get this straight," Sarah says. "We'll be working on...logistics?"
"Don't start," Bob says as he turns toward his office. He leaves her giggling in the hallway.
Bob checks his email and finds all of the information he'd discussed with Auggie on the phone. He prints it out and then holds it up next to the large, wall-sized map of North America on the wall near his desk. "Calgary...Billings..." he begins to mumble as he traces a southeastern path of distribution hubs from Anchorage to San Antonio. "Denver...this is going to be tight."
He returns to his computer and plugs the data into his planning software. It returns a simple map and some basic information, such as mileage and leg-lengths. "This is going to be tight," he says again, chewing on the end of his pencil.
Sarah walks in. "Blackthorn will run it $1800 on the first leg," she says from the doorway.
"He's a pirate!" Bob calls back at her. "That's robbery."
"I can try the...other branch," she says. He catches the pun but chooses to ignore it. "It might be tough though. Blackthorn North has really got its roots in—"
"Enough." He waves her away. She chuckles silently as she goes.
Bob starts placing calls to his usual channels. Unfortunately, logs require a specialty truck, and can't really be added to outstanding routes. No, for this job, he has to build everything from scratch.
Within a few hours, he's got the trucks and drivers secured, along with a pick up schedule that works for Auggie. Half the logs will go tonight, and the other half tomorrow. The second half might be pushing the deadline, but they'll get there. He thinks for a minute. "Yeah, they'll get there," he says aloud. "Just as long as I—"
There's a knock on the door. It's Thomas.
"Still on the logs, boss?" he asks. Bob nods. "Okay, this won't take long. It's about our other client, Mary's of Chicago?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, they're looking to sort of...spruce up their distribution network."
"Okay?"
"They're...pine-ing for it, if you will."
Bob sighs. "Not you, too."
"If we do it, they willow us one."
"Out."
"If yew would just—"
"Out!"
Thomas scurries out as Bob yells into the hallway. "Sarah! Did you put him up to this? We've got work to do." He hears laughing, and then the sound of her footsteps hurrying away.
Bob spends the rest of his day connecting the dots on Auggie's request. It's going to cost him a little extra to get through Colorado in time, but it's doable. It's his job to get things through cheaply—not free. "Ah well," he thinks. "What does he expect us to do with this notice? Work a miracle?" He looks over the plan, and smiles. Actually, this is a bit of a miracle. He should be happy.
He gets up from his desk, grabs his coat, and heads for the exit. Sarah calls after him as he reaches the exit.
"It's four o'clock!" she says. "There's at least another couple of hours—"
"You guys finish up. I'm leafing early," he says, closing the door behind him.
Sarah laughs, but only for a few seconds. "Did he just—"
"He did," Thomas says, chuckling.
Sarah frowns. It's going to be a late night.