I would get him again just for fun!
While local authorities still debate whether last Thursday’s frozen gridlock should be blamed on human incompetence or on a vengeful God, I have a message for the state’s 4,000-plus snowplow drivers.
I hate you.
And I hate all you private contractors with plows on your landscaping trucks, too.
Not daring to ask my boss if I was an “essential” or a “nonessential” employee, I took off after lunch during the 8-inch snowstorm to join the commuter exodus. Moving only 300 yards in 30 minutes, I did a U-turn and chained myself to my desk. My productivity skyrocketed. In the next five hours, with no phones ringing or co-workers yakking, I accomplished about a week’s worth of work.
Straying out alone into the parking lot tundra at 10 p.m., I received my reward.
Ever play that classic Milton Bradley game, “Don’t Break The Ice?”
My snowbound car was packed more tightly than those plastic cubes. The snowplow driver, who was scraping up the last bits of frost on the opposite end of the office park, giddily scooted over to enlarge my shadow with his headlights.
“You’re OK to get outta here, aren’t ya?” he snarled, admiring his freshly built snow fort.
Naively believing that he was concerned I was trapped, I asked him if he had a shovel to help dig me out. He didn’t.
I grunted that I would be fine and waved him off. My natural impulse was to swear at him, but he looked like the kind of seedy character who picks his teeth with a crowbar.
Burrowing into my mid-sized Honda, I was able to rock back and forth between first gear and reverse to burst through the snow wall. On my way home, I met his state-sponsored brethren. Plows on a fleet of ginormous dump trucks scraped pavement to my left and right, making me feel like a Pop Warner quarterback rushing against the New England Patriots [team stats] defensive line.
There was certainly nothing unique about last Thursday night’s precarious commute home. But it’s amazing there aren’t a handful of snowplow beheadings in Massachusetts every time there is a storm.
My employer later told me that the parking lot plow guy technically had “the right” to box me in ice. He said that our company lease includes language banning all vehicles from the property overnight and during snow emergencies. I’m guessing the lease also includes a clause allowing plow drivers to act like vindictive schmucks.
Maybe I’m the buffoon. Maybe my snow removal nemesis just complained about me on his snowplow blog. But I maintain there is a major manners deficit in the plowing profession. I call on Gov. Deval Patrick to introduce a mandatory snowstorm etiquette seminar for the Massachusetts Highway Department.
If the state refuses to insist on good manners, then I’d like to make a personal plea to the inner goodness of every plow-wielding soul from Billerica to Boston.
The next time you trap me or almost kill me, how about a wave and a smile?
Darren Garnick’s “The Working Stiff” column runs every Wednesday in the Boston Herald. For an extra helping of “The Working Stiff,” visit
http://news.bostonherald.com/blogs/workingStiff/
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
,,,,, do....?
Linear Mode
