customer queries; two couriers who needed contact names; one courier who had a puncture (I got the impression that Aidan didn’t believe that one) and who needed to be met by another courier to have all of his work taken off him; one courier who had gone to the wrong office to pick up after mishearing Aidan despatch a call to him and was now miles away from where he should have been and giving about ten different couriers a “Roger” as they reported their progress, telling them either to header on or stand by as they asked for more work.
He also despatched six different jobs as I watched on, becoming more impressed by the second. My second impression of Aidan, which was so much more admirable and positive than the first, was well in place by the time he got around to giving me some attention.
“Okay, Sean, ready to go?”
“Roger.” Delighted with myself that he noticed I had answered him in radio talk, I filled in the date at the top of my signature sheet.
He despatched two different jobs to me: one called a mini which was basically a job to be picked up in the city centre going to another office in the city centre that paid the basic “within two miles” rate which was £1.30 and a stretch mini which went a few miles further for which I got the rate for three miles at 60p each added on (even though the distance between pick up and drop off was only three miles, the customer was going to be charged for five).
The total value of the work despatched to me added up to £5.20. He told me to call him when I had picked the two of them up and I said “Roger” again.
I was determined to make a good first impression. I intended to follow his instructions to the letter and not to ask for any directions at all, although I only had a very rough idea of where Kilmainham was – the destination of my stretch mini.
“What did ye ge’?” enquired Vinno, as I picked my radio up off the table.
“Mount Street Crescent to Leeson Street and Baggot Street to Kilmainham.”
“Okay c’mere,” He got up and went to the map on the wall beside the hatch.
“Rie. You’re here. Go under the arch at the end of the lane an’ ye’re on Baggo’ Stree’, yeah? Cross Baggo’ Stree’ an’ go down this small road strai’ in front of ye an’ that’ll bring ye down to Mount Stree’ Upper, yeah? Turn rie an’ ye’ll see a mad lookin’ buildin’ in front of ye.”
While he had been directing me on the map I had been struggling to get my radio on properly. I had seen the other couriers put their radios on in such a way that they seemed to just sit on their left shoulders with the speaker facing out and the call button perfectly accessible to the right hand. The others had done this so effortlessly that I hadn’t paid as much attention to the technique as I should have and was all over the place as a result.
“The strap goes under yer arm, bu’ noh over yer head. Pu’ the front of the strap behind yer neck wi’ the back of i’ an’ the two go over yer shoulder together.
There! That’s you sorted! Now, from Leeson Stree’ ye jus’ go strai’ along Cuffe Stree’, Kevin Stree’, the Coombe an’ then turn rie onte Meath Stree’. All the way up to the T then turn left onte Thomas Stree’. Strai’ on all the way onto James Stree’, past the hoppo an’ ye’re there! Take yer time an’ don’ panic, ye’ll be grand.”
“Thanks, Vinno.”
“No worries.”
The bag, unlike the radio holder, did go over my head and under my right arm, and it felt good that I at least mastered that myself – until Vinno pointed out that it was way too long and adjusted the strap for me.
“It’s noh meant to cover yer arse – you want i’ so’s the bottom of it just sits on the seat of yer bike.”
“Thanks, Vinno,” I said, beginning to feel like a parrot.
“Off ye pop.”
And off I went, out making money on my motorbike.
This was such an adventure for me that I began to sing the Indiana Jones theme tune to
He also despatched six different jobs as I watched on, becoming more impressed by the second. My second impression of Aidan, which was so much more admirable and positive than the first, was well in place by the time he got around to giving me some attention.
“Okay, Sean, ready to go?”
“Roger.” Delighted with myself that he noticed I had answered him in radio talk, I filled in the date at the top of my signature sheet.
He despatched two different jobs to me: one called a mini which was basically a job to be picked up in the city centre going to another office in the city centre that paid the basic “within two miles” rate which was £1.30 and a stretch mini which went a few miles further for which I got the rate for three miles at 60p each added on (even though the distance between pick up and drop off was only three miles, the customer was going to be charged for five).
The total value of the work despatched to me added up to £5.20. He told me to call him when I had picked the two of them up and I said “Roger” again.
I was determined to make a good first impression. I intended to follow his instructions to the letter and not to ask for any directions at all, although I only had a very rough idea of where Kilmainham was – the destination of my stretch mini.
“What did ye ge’?” enquired Vinno, as I picked my radio up off the table.
“Mount Street Crescent to Leeson Street and Baggot Street to Kilmainham.”
“Okay c’mere,” He got up and went to the map on the wall beside the hatch.
“Rie. You’re here. Go under the arch at the end of the lane an’ ye’re on Baggo’ Stree’, yeah? Cross Baggo’ Stree’ an’ go down this small road strai’ in front of ye an’ that’ll bring ye down to Mount Stree’ Upper, yeah? Turn rie an’ ye’ll see a mad lookin’ buildin’ in front of ye.”
While he had been directing me on the map I had been struggling to get my radio on properly. I had seen the other couriers put their radios on in such a way that they seemed to just sit on their left shoulders with the speaker facing out and the call button perfectly accessible to the right hand. The others had done this so effortlessly that I hadn’t paid as much attention to the technique as I should have and was all over the place as a result.
“The strap goes under yer arm, bu’ noh over yer head. Pu’ the front of the strap behind yer neck wi’ the back of i’ an’ the two go over yer shoulder together.
There! That’s you sorted! Now, from Leeson Stree’ ye jus’ go strai’ along Cuffe Stree’, Kevin Stree’, the Coombe an’ then turn rie onte Meath Stree’. All the way up to the T then turn left onte Thomas Stree’. Strai’ on all the way onto James Stree’, past the hoppo an’ ye’re there! Take yer time an’ don’ panic, ye’ll be grand.”
“Thanks, Vinno.”
“No worries.”
The bag, unlike the radio holder, did go over my head and under my right arm, and it felt good that I at least mastered that myself – until Vinno pointed out that it was way too long and adjusted the strap for me.
“It’s noh meant to cover yer arse – you want i’ so’s the bottom of it just sits on the seat of yer bike.”
“Thanks, Vinno,” I said, beginning to feel like a parrot.
“Off ye pop.”
And off I went, out making money on my motorbike.
This was such an adventure for me that I began to sing the Indiana Jones theme tune to
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