Walmart Rejects 20 Pallets..Stuck with Load

Nice work. Glad it all worked out fine.

 

The broker isn't going to be paying for this out of pocket. The customer is going to end up paying for the whole thing. Not even melon customers get out of paying for redelivery.

 

I don't know how it works...Thanks for clarifying the broker side of the game. But If I were a broker, I would guarantee to pay the guy, if the customer made the decision to haul it back. I mean, I would guarantee the pay even out of my own packet, and deal with the customer on a different level. I don't accept and agree with this notion of "I pay you, If they pay me." But that's why I could never be a broker, I'd go broke too fast.

 

Yeah as a broker it's not your responsibility to take the hit for 100% of the shady stuff that happens in this business. Your job is to make sure you *help* the injured party recover their money. This should almost always be the customer not the carrier. You're not supposed to work with customers who pull nonsense like this.

It's not even a risk though. Every customer pays for this kind of thing. No exceptions. Remember that if they don't pay to haul it back the carrier owns the freight. If the freight is worth more than the transportation the customer is going to pay up. If it doesn't they are going to write it off.

 

Really? That I did not know. Thanks again!

 

Look at how that load of scrap paper in another thread got handled. It got rejected and the shipper INSTANTLY said "we don't want it back". That's because a load of scrap paper is only worth something if someone is willing to pay for it. When nobody was they would rather make a new load of scrap paper at the shipper than pay to bring the old one back. I'd bet that transportation costs are 2/3 or more of the COGS for scrap paper companies.

That paper was worth so little money they couldn't even be bothered to call WM and see what they would pay for it. They'd rather just leave the whole mess for the trucking company to figure out. That's pretty lazy imo. If I ran a scrap paper company I'd have a contract in place with WM or Republic or w/e to take my rejected freight at a fixed rate. Save a hundred bucks a load by paying the truck 100 bucks to do a redelivery 20 miles away and getting 200 bucks from WM. But some people are lazy

 

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

- Robert W Service

 

Old mate would've been spitting out all of his teeth if that was me.

 

My friend knew what was going to happen next and grabbed me and shoved me out the door before I could get any #### started. I begged him to let me go back in there and give that guy an appointment with Jesus.

 

Yer there wouldn't be any stopping me... words couldn't care less... hit me. Your going to sleep. You maybe lucky if I don't remove your arm from its socket...