Logistics The New Buzzword.
I was hired to work for Canada Packers in August of 1981. Canada Packers was a huge Canadian conglomerate focused primarily on the manufacturing and distribution of some of the most popular food products across the country. Back then it would be a safe bet to say that at least one Canada Packers product could be found within every home in Canada.
I was employed in the dairy division; under the York Foods banner. York Foods was primarily the frozen food division of Canada Packers, supplying supermarkets with almost every frozen fruit and vegetable imaginable. Many other frozen foods were also produced under the York banner including those where I worked at York Ice Cream.
On my first day of work I reported to my new supervisor Bert. I knew very little about my new job or my actual duties with the exception that I would be selling ice cream out of a truck. Where or how I had no idea, but I knew I would be paid a base salary and a commission. The money I could potentially earn was almost four times more than what I had been earning at Collegiate Sports the week prior. All I needed to do was report to Bert and he would be explaining everything to me.
On Monday I arrived at the York Farms yard located in the Leslie Street / Hwy 401 area of Toronto. As I drove up to the office I saw none of those familiar neighborhood ice cream trucks I was expecting to see parked in the yard. Afterall, it was 6 am when I arrived so they had to be there. The only trucks I was seeing on that morning were light blue transport trucks all with the red York Ice Cream logo on the side.
I walked up the stairs where Bert was already there waiting for me. After our introductions and some small talk, Bert told me that we were heading out to Oshawa. We would be doing a route for one of the other drivers who was on vacation that week. Bert handed me the keys and told me I was driving.
“Driving what?” I asked.
As it turns out, my perception of my new job had been totally wrong. I would not be selling ice cream in neighborhoods like I thought. I would not be driving a truck with carnival music blaring, letting all the kiddies know that the ice cream man had arrived on their street like I thought I would. Nope, I would be selling ice cream to small convenience stores throughout the city and I would be driving one of those York Ice Cream trucks I had seen in the yard when I first arrived.
“You’re kidding me right?” I said after Bert showed me the truck that I would be driving.
I wish I would have known all this before I wasted my Monday morning driving out to start this new job. There was not a hope in hell I was driving one of those trucks that were in the yard. Besides, I had just gotten my driver’s license a year or so earlier. I could not imagine driving a transport truck that I knew I was not even licensed for.
“I don’t have a truck license,” I told Bert hoping he would just send me home.
“No problem, I have one and that is all you need when you are learning,” Bert told me.
“It’s easy, if I can drive ‘em anyone can drive ‘em.” he added.
I was employed in the dairy division; under the York Foods banner. York Foods was primarily the frozen food division of Canada Packers, supplying supermarkets with almost every frozen fruit and vegetable imaginable. Many other frozen foods were also produced under the York banner including those where I worked at York Ice Cream.
On my first day of work I reported to my new supervisor Bert. I knew very little about my new job or my actual duties with the exception that I would be selling ice cream out of a truck. Where or how I had no idea, but I knew I would be paid a base salary and a commission. The money I could potentially earn was almost four times more than what I had been earning at Collegiate Sports the week prior. All I needed to do was report to Bert and he would be explaining everything to me.
On Monday I arrived at the York Farms yard located in the Leslie Street / Hwy 401 area of Toronto. As I drove up to the office I saw none of those familiar neighborhood ice cream trucks I was expecting to see parked in the yard. Afterall, it was 6 am when I arrived so they had to be there. The only trucks I was seeing on that morning were light blue transport trucks all with the red York Ice Cream logo on the side.
I walked up the stairs where Bert was already there waiting for me. After our introductions and some small talk, Bert told me that we were heading out to Oshawa. We would be doing a route for one of the other drivers who was on vacation that week. Bert handed me the keys and told me I was driving.
“Driving what?” I asked.
As it turns out, my perception of my new job had been totally wrong. I would not be selling ice cream in neighborhoods like I thought. I would not be driving a truck with carnival music blaring, letting all the kiddies know that the ice cream man had arrived on their street like I thought I would. Nope, I would be selling ice cream to small convenience stores throughout the city and I would be driving one of those York Ice Cream trucks I had seen in the yard when I first arrived.
“You’re kidding me right?” I said after Bert showed me the truck that I would be driving.
I wish I would have known all this before I wasted my Monday morning driving out to start this new job. There was not a hope in hell I was driving one of those trucks that were in the yard. Besides, I had just gotten my driver’s license a year or so earlier. I could not imagine driving a transport truck that I knew I was not even licensed for.
“I don’t have a truck license,” I told Bert hoping he would just send me home.
“No problem, I have one and that is all you need when you are learning,” Bert told me.
“It’s easy, if I can drive ‘em anyone can drive ‘em.” he added.
We both headed out towards the truck in the yard. I was both equally scared and nervous as I climbed up into the big rig. There were fuck’n steps just to get up and inside the cab and I was sitting so high off the ground.
I just wanted to go home.
Bert quickly explained the basics of driving a truck to me. He told me the best way to learn was to drive and to just keep on driving. There were so many gauges, so many lights on the dashboard. I heard buzzers and beeping sounds as I turned the key to start the truck. Bert said we needed to build up the air pressure to release the brakes before we could drive away to start our day. The air pressure warning buzzer stopped. We now had enough pressure as I pushed in the yellow parking brake valve to release the brakes.
I just wanted to go home.
Bert quickly explained the basics of driving a truck to me. He told me the best way to learn was to drive and to just keep on driving. There were so many gauges, so many lights on the dashboard. I heard buzzers and beeping sounds as I turned the key to start the truck. Bert said we needed to build up the air pressure to release the brakes before we could drive away to start our day. The air pressure warning buzzer stopped. We now had enough pressure as I pushed in the yellow parking brake valve to release the brakes.
We were now on our way as I pulled down on the air horn cord. The air horn was so loud, the truck was loud and the refrigeration unit just above our heads seemed even louder. There were big rectangular mirrors on each side of the cab with both smaller convex and concave mirrors. Bert told me he would be explaining everything to me once we got going and got on the highway.
“Highway, what highway?” I asked as I struggled to find the proper gear.
“We have to take the 401 east to Oshawa,” Bert responded.
Within five minutes I had driven us safely onto Canada’s busiest highway. I was driving a truck for the very first time ever and I still had no idea what I was even doing there. I thought about quitting and just going home. Even if I get through today and we're both lucky to survive, there was no fuck’n way I would be working here tomorrow. I remember thinking to myself.
I knew I could always go back and work at Collegiate Sports.
Bert was a jovial man. He seemed to have absolutely no issues with being driven in a truck along Canada’s busiest highway by a total stranger. A total stranger who had no idea what the hell he was even doing there. A total stranger who had never driven a truck before that morning. The two of us continued our journey east into the bright sunrise. Bert explained everything and he answered all my questions about driving the truck I was now driving. I probably asked him dozens of questions and he answered every single one. I also learned all about my new job and what would be expected of me. I knew I could do the job, although I still wasn’t too keen about driving a truck.
Before I knew it we passed the ‘Welcome to Oshawa’ road sign.
Holy shit!
I had just driven both of us in a truck along Hwy 401 and it felt like I had been doing it all my life. Well not quite, but my nervousness had almost completely disappeared. However, I still had a whole day of work ahead of me. I decided that I would wait till the end of the day to make up my mind as to whether or not I will show up tomorrow. It was a very long day and I really enjoyed working with Bert. During the day he drank well over a dozen double double coffees and he also had to take a piss at least a dozen times. Eventually, we did make it safely back to the yard and I turned the truck off at around 6 pm.
“Highway, what highway?” I asked as I struggled to find the proper gear.
“We have to take the 401 east to Oshawa,” Bert responded.
Within five minutes I had driven us safely onto Canada’s busiest highway. I was driving a truck for the very first time ever and I still had no idea what I was even doing there. I thought about quitting and just going home. Even if I get through today and we're both lucky to survive, there was no fuck’n way I would be working here tomorrow. I remember thinking to myself.
I knew I could always go back and work at Collegiate Sports.
Bert was a jovial man. He seemed to have absolutely no issues with being driven in a truck along Canada’s busiest highway by a total stranger. A total stranger who had no idea what the hell he was even doing there. A total stranger who had never driven a truck before that morning. The two of us continued our journey east into the bright sunrise. Bert explained everything and he answered all my questions about driving the truck I was now driving. I probably asked him dozens of questions and he answered every single one. I also learned all about my new job and what would be expected of me. I knew I could do the job, although I still wasn’t too keen about driving a truck.
Before I knew it we passed the ‘Welcome to Oshawa’ road sign.
Holy shit!
I had just driven both of us in a truck along Hwy 401 and it felt like I had been doing it all my life. Well not quite, but my nervousness had almost completely disappeared. However, I still had a whole day of work ahead of me. I decided that I would wait till the end of the day to make up my mind as to whether or not I will show up tomorrow. It was a very long day and I really enjoyed working with Bert. During the day he drank well over a dozen double double coffees and he also had to take a piss at least a dozen times. Eventually, we did make it safely back to the yard and I turned the truck off at around 6 pm.
Little did I know on that first day it would end up being the start of well over two decades of selling ice cream and driving a truck. It turned out to be a great job and I loved it. I made a ton of money and I could write a book about my adventures working within the inner city of Toronto. Seriously, I have no doubt that the stories I could tell and the things I have witnessed would be book worthy. Maybe someday I will write some of my memories.
Within a few years, Canada Packers sold the York Ice Cream division to Beatrice Foods. Everyone kept their jobs, but I now had a new depot that I would be working out of. The old York Farms property became much too valuable and was sold then demolished to make room for a new mega Ikea store. The new Beatrice depot was in Bramalea, just northwest of Toronto. Beatrice Foods also did not like the commission format I was being payed and changed my pay structure to an hourly wage. I was no longer a driver salesman; instead I now just delivered pre-ordered ice cream. Moneywise it was about the same annually maybe a tad more, but I no longer had big paycheques with commissions, instead I now would be paid overtime. I still did the exact same job, but with a new company logo on the truck, on my work shirt and on my paycheque.
It was during my time while working for Beatrice Foods that I noticed certain things regarding store deliveries were slowly changing.
Logistics was the new buzzword and the word was everywhere.
When I was driving, I always considered the premier driving jobs were the Molson or Labatt’s breweries highway runs. The drivers for the most part were older and much more experienced. Some of those drivers had well over a million miles of safe driving under their belts. The breweries large shiny fleets always looked as if they had just been washed and waxed. The drivers were payed a well above average income and you never saw Molson or Labatt’s driving jobs advertised.
Slowly and quite subtly things began to change and some of the breweries trailers were now being hauled by independent contractors. Many other companies with large truck fleets also began to follow suit and before you could say owner-operator, it seemed like every good paying company driving job had all but disappeared. Companies were now hiring owner-operators to transport goods instead of employing their own drivers and owning fleets of trucks. The industry had done a complete reversal from when I started driving a decade earlier.
In Bramalea I witnessed this firsthand.
The big orange Punjabi Truck Driver Training trucks were everywhere in Bramalea. For the most part, there would be two or three Indian guys sitting in the cab and all of them would be wearing turbans. They would all be bouncing around in the cab while taking turns learning how to drive the truck. It was hilarious to see and they were the brunt of many jokes, but every single day they were out there learning how to drive transport trucks.
“Don’t laugh they will have your job someday,” I remember someone once telling me.
During the 90's literally hundreds of newly AZ / DZ licensed immigrant truck drivers hit the job market across the Toronto area. Hourly rates began to drop as new driver service companies were formed. They began offering companies a much cheaper alternative to having their own drivers on the payroll. They were slowly cutting into our turf and there was nothing that us well paid unionized drivers could do about it.
I could never understand why a guy from India or Pakistan wanted to drive a truck or a taxi anyway. Many of those newcomers to Canada were highly educated. Some were doctors or engineers back in their home countries, yet they were unable to pursue their chosen career paths here in Canada. It was all politics, but they still needed a job so for whatever reason many gravitated towards various driving jobs.
I recall many times when I would be sitting in the driver’s room with other drivers who like me were all earning a well above average income. I myself did make a good living driving a truck, but I could have made so much more. Although, I was not too keen on working the extra hours readily available and I would always pass on working any overtime. Because I was higher on the seniority list, the OT hours had to be offered to me first. I always turned them down and eventually I told my supervisors to stop offering them to me altogether.
Other drivers would eagerly gobble them up.
It was quite funny to listen to some of them talk about how they just assumed they had this great paying job for life. And how they were all going to retire with their big company pensions.
“This gravy train will be ending sooner than you think.” I always told them while they continually scoffed at my prediction.
Eventually, I was proven right and the gravy train went off the rails. In June of 1996, all of us well payed union drivers were told we were no longer company employees and we were all being let go. The company was finally doing what all the other companies with drivers were doing, they were now going owner-operator. They no longer needed a fleet of trucks and so they no longer needed any of us drivers.
The logistics at Beatrice Foods were changing and the gravy train was now pulling into the station after its final run.
However, I was offered an opportunity to now work as an owner-operator for the company. The company was handpicking the drivers they wanted to keep and they told me that I was right at the top of their list. I was a bit surprised as well I was a bit flattered. The truth is more than any other route they needed a driver who was willing to do the very important downtown route. I was already doing the route and for the most part none of the other drivers even wanted it.
I would be doing the exact same job, but I would now have all the headaches. Everything would now be my responsibility. Everything would now be on my watch. I thought it over and weighed out all the pros and cons. There were lots of both, but the pros did nudge out the cons by a very small margin. The deciding pro for me was that I would be compensated $500 for each and every day I worked. I signed a five year contract and I paid off the lease that the company owed on the newer truck I was already driving. It was now my own truck and for the next eight years I would be an owner-operator delivering ice cream out of that very same truck.
I was very well compensated for my efforts and in September 2004 I pulled the plug and I semi-retired at 44 years old. I had had enough of all the new logistics, Government regulations and my truck was soon to be needing replacing anyway. Insurance costs were soaring and quite frankly, I was sick and tired of driving a truck in the city of Toronto.
It had been just over twenty-three years since that first day when I drove up to the York Farms yard and met Bert. Twenty-three years since we drove out into the sunrise on our way to Oshawa. Finally the sun was now setting and my truck would be parked for good. There was absolutely not a snowball's chance in hell I would've thought I'd have done that job for that many years. I still can’t believe I stuck it out for that long. I was a good employee and I was a good owner-operator.
Wow, twenty-three years really was a long time.
Within a few years, Canada Packers sold the York Ice Cream division to Beatrice Foods. Everyone kept their jobs, but I now had a new depot that I would be working out of. The old York Farms property became much too valuable and was sold then demolished to make room for a new mega Ikea store. The new Beatrice depot was in Bramalea, just northwest of Toronto. Beatrice Foods also did not like the commission format I was being payed and changed my pay structure to an hourly wage. I was no longer a driver salesman; instead I now just delivered pre-ordered ice cream. Moneywise it was about the same annually maybe a tad more, but I no longer had big paycheques with commissions, instead I now would be paid overtime. I still did the exact same job, but with a new company logo on the truck, on my work shirt and on my paycheque.
It was during my time while working for Beatrice Foods that I noticed certain things regarding store deliveries were slowly changing.
Logistics was the new buzzword and the word was everywhere.
When I was driving, I always considered the premier driving jobs were the Molson or Labatt’s breweries highway runs. The drivers for the most part were older and much more experienced. Some of those drivers had well over a million miles of safe driving under their belts. The breweries large shiny fleets always looked as if they had just been washed and waxed. The drivers were payed a well above average income and you never saw Molson or Labatt’s driving jobs advertised.
Slowly and quite subtly things began to change and some of the breweries trailers were now being hauled by independent contractors. Many other companies with large truck fleets also began to follow suit and before you could say owner-operator, it seemed like every good paying company driving job had all but disappeared. Companies were now hiring owner-operators to transport goods instead of employing their own drivers and owning fleets of trucks. The industry had done a complete reversal from when I started driving a decade earlier.
In Bramalea I witnessed this firsthand.
The big orange Punjabi Truck Driver Training trucks were everywhere in Bramalea. For the most part, there would be two or three Indian guys sitting in the cab and all of them would be wearing turbans. They would all be bouncing around in the cab while taking turns learning how to drive the truck. It was hilarious to see and they were the brunt of many jokes, but every single day they were out there learning how to drive transport trucks.
“Don’t laugh they will have your job someday,” I remember someone once telling me.
During the 90's literally hundreds of newly AZ / DZ licensed immigrant truck drivers hit the job market across the Toronto area. Hourly rates began to drop as new driver service companies were formed. They began offering companies a much cheaper alternative to having their own drivers on the payroll. They were slowly cutting into our turf and there was nothing that us well paid unionized drivers could do about it.
I could never understand why a guy from India or Pakistan wanted to drive a truck or a taxi anyway. Many of those newcomers to Canada were highly educated. Some were doctors or engineers back in their home countries, yet they were unable to pursue their chosen career paths here in Canada. It was all politics, but they still needed a job so for whatever reason many gravitated towards various driving jobs.
I recall many times when I would be sitting in the driver’s room with other drivers who like me were all earning a well above average income. I myself did make a good living driving a truck, but I could have made so much more. Although, I was not too keen on working the extra hours readily available and I would always pass on working any overtime. Because I was higher on the seniority list, the OT hours had to be offered to me first. I always turned them down and eventually I told my supervisors to stop offering them to me altogether.
Other drivers would eagerly gobble them up.
It was quite funny to listen to some of them talk about how they just assumed they had this great paying job for life. And how they were all going to retire with their big company pensions.
“This gravy train will be ending sooner than you think.” I always told them while they continually scoffed at my prediction.
Eventually, I was proven right and the gravy train went off the rails. In June of 1996, all of us well payed union drivers were told we were no longer company employees and we were all being let go. The company was finally doing what all the other companies with drivers were doing, they were now going owner-operator. They no longer needed a fleet of trucks and so they no longer needed any of us drivers.
The logistics at Beatrice Foods were changing and the gravy train was now pulling into the station after its final run.
However, I was offered an opportunity to now work as an owner-operator for the company. The company was handpicking the drivers they wanted to keep and they told me that I was right at the top of their list. I was a bit surprised as well I was a bit flattered. The truth is more than any other route they needed a driver who was willing to do the very important downtown route. I was already doing the route and for the most part none of the other drivers even wanted it.
I would be doing the exact same job, but I would now have all the headaches. Everything would now be my responsibility. Everything would now be on my watch. I thought it over and weighed out all the pros and cons. There were lots of both, but the pros did nudge out the cons by a very small margin. The deciding pro for me was that I would be compensated $500 for each and every day I worked. I signed a five year contract and I paid off the lease that the company owed on the newer truck I was already driving. It was now my own truck and for the next eight years I would be an owner-operator delivering ice cream out of that very same truck.
I was very well compensated for my efforts and in September 2004 I pulled the plug and I semi-retired at 44 years old. I had had enough of all the new logistics, Government regulations and my truck was soon to be needing replacing anyway. Insurance costs were soaring and quite frankly, I was sick and tired of driving a truck in the city of Toronto.
It had been just over twenty-three years since that first day when I drove up to the York Farms yard and met Bert. Twenty-three years since we drove out into the sunrise on our way to Oshawa. Finally the sun was now setting and my truck would be parked for good. There was absolutely not a snowball's chance in hell I would've thought I'd have done that job for that many years. I still can’t believe I stuck it out for that long. I was a good employee and I was a good owner-operator.
Wow, twenty-three years really was a long time.
Logistically speaking that is.
