Truck Topics

Time To Control Your Costs

A company driver who likes his steak, my wife and I spend as much as a fourth of our earnings “on the road.” When the freight's been bad, or when one of the young'uns needs new braces, to control our costs for a time, we fill our cooler with cold cuts and colas and picnic in rest areas.

Controlling expenses has an entirely different meaning for an owner operator, however -- they are, after all, businesspeople. Whether totally independent, or leased to a multi-billion dollar corporation, if he doesn't keep a close eye on the expense side of the ledger, he'll soon be standing on the sidewalk watching the world whiz by.

At least three-quarters of all businesses fail within their five years. I'd be willing to bet the figures are much worse for the trucking industry.

According to Leon Johnson of the Small Business Administration, the primary cause of new business failure is under-capitalization. But what's a truck-driving man (or woman) to do when he has a burning dream and very few resources?... He does the best he can, of course. He buys a tired ten-year-old rustbucket and hopes it'll hold together long enough to make him a few dollars. Often, it doesn't.

“The best advice I can give anybody planning to become an owner/operator,” said Marvin Groves, “is to look before you leap. It's not as easy as it looks.” Marvin ought to know. In the twenty-one years I've known him, he's been an owner-operator three separate times.

“I fell on my fanny the first time,” he said, “because I blew an engine and didn't have the cash on hand to replace it. The second time, because I got hurt and couldn't work and didn't have enough insurance.” He looked at me and grinned. “I guess it's sorta like that commercial--Pay me now or pay me later.”

“But you seem to be making out just fine now,” I said. “You've got three trucks on the road, a nice home with a swimming pool in the back, two new automobiles sitting under the carport, and a boat tied up down at the marina.”

A proud but unassuming man, he couldn't help but smile. “Yeah, I'm doing all right,” he said.

“Why you,” I said. “Why you, when so many dreams turn to ashes? What's your secret?”

“In one word: strength.”

“Willie B. Gorilla” (taken from the name awarded by the media to one of the Atlanta Zoo's apes) looked across at his employer and best friend and chuckled. Willie stands about six-seven and weighs two-ninety or so; Marvin Groves barely reaches his belly-button.

“Don't laugh, you big galoot,” Marvin said. “You could pick me up and spank me like a child, but” -- he pointed at Willie's plate-- “that's what I'm talking about right there. Even though when you sat down you said that you weren't very hungry, you bought a $20 steak -- most of it's still on the plate. I ordered an egg sandwich and I haven't eaten all day.”

I glanced guiltily at the remains of my own T-bone. “I think I know what you mean,” I said, “but, well, I don't like sandwiches, and I love steak.”

“Hey,” he said, “I'm not knocking it. A man ought to get some enojoyment out of life. I happen to like good cigars, for instance. H. Upmann's, the only brand I'll smoke, and they cost me seventy bucks, a box of fifty. But,” he added with an upraised finger, “I limit myself to one box a month.”

“In other words,” I said, “controlling costs equates to self-control.”

Willie laughed. “If it was so simple as that, Marvin'd be the richest man in the country. You want to see ‘tight-fisted' in action, try to get a nickle out of this little guy.”

“Listen to him talk,” Marvin growled. “I pay my drivers twenty-eight cents a mile, going and coming; I pay all lumper-fees; I keep their ‘rides' in good service; I get everybody home regular. What more could a truck driver ask for?”

“Dental insurance would be nice,” Willie said, grumpily.

Marvin looked at him. “Yeah, yeah, it would. I'd like to have dental coverage for my own family. If you boys stop wasting so much money, maybe I could afford little extras like that, for all of us.” Clearly, these two men, employer and employee, had had this conversation before. I felt like an intruder.

Willie B. Gorilla, getting red above the collar, said, “Aw, now, come on, Marvin! You can't say I waste your money -- and neither does Bobby Tyler or David Councillor. Yeah, you pay lumpers, but you don't like doing it -- you fuss about it all the time -- so we usually end up unloading our own trailers, and --”

“Willie, the last time I took a walk around your rig, I found a slack tire you'd been running on I-don't-know-how-long -- I guess because you were too lazy to drag an air hose to it, and --” He paused to take a breath. He, too, was getting angry. “You got any idea how much a new tire costs, Willie?”

Have you ever been to a dinner party and an innocent remark starts a fight between a man and his wife? It's downright embarrassing. You don't know what to say. Whatever you choose, invariably, it's the wrong thing. I took a bite of Texas toast and looked out the window.

“It's started to rain,” I said.

Marvin reached inside a thick accordion folder and brought out a stack of receipts. “Look at this, Willie. Anybody in his right mind could tell it was gonna rain today, but this morning you still spent $30 on a truck wash. That's what I'm talking about. It's the little things like this that mount up.”

They wouldn't come to blows. They'd been friends far longer than they'd been employer and employee. But as long as they had a witness, they'd keeep at it. I dropped a dollar tip on the table, grabbed my guest check, and stood.

“Well, folks, it's been fun.” Neither remarked upon my hasty departure. They were busy trying to stare each other down.

Driving for one of the big outfits, it's not so clear-cut. According to a survey I read a few months ago, most humans, if they knew without a doubt they would get away with it, wouldn't hesitate to rob a bank.

Most of us wouldn't steal from our next-door neighbor, however. Stockholders are faceless numbers on a balance sheet. The president of the corporation you drive for most likely isn't your personal friend.

So, if we're honest about it, all of us at times waste our employers' money. Now, I'm not one of those who say never idle your truck, for instance; when it's thirty degrees outside, a man ought to have the right to keep his buns from freezing.

And, conversely, it's impossible to sleep when you're swimming in your own sweat. But is it necessary to idle for three hours while you're sitting in a restaurant, or hovering over a video machine?

Three hours a day of unnecessary idling times thirty days, that's about $180 a month in added fuel cost -- and that's just about enough to pay a dental health premium, for an entire family.

When Chrysler Corporation was about to go under, its employees were eager to help management cut costs. Perhaps, if we begin to economize now for our own employers, we won't report to work some sad day and find a padlock on the door.