Jimmie Dawn, The One Fleet Manager
If there was one thing other than Guzle that Doggonit could boast about, it was their one and only fleet manager, Jimmie Dawn. About 6-foot in height, David-statue chiseled face that he kept scruffy with a light stubble, smooth, muddy hair, and an athletic build partly hidden under loose fitted shirts or long sleeve button ups; Mr. Dawn fit the role of lead dispatch fleet manager to perfection in the eyes of the company. He got along with all his drivers and the dispatch managers under him admired everything about him. There was no such thing as a person at Doggonit that hated Jimmie Dawn. Not even Phil expressed any resentment of any kind towards him, and you could see the respect in his eyes even behind his big, old glasses as Jimmie strut through the room with the manner and authority of the president walking through the white house.
Everyone in the class quickly determined that this guy meant business wherever he went and in whatever he did.
When he got up to the front of the class, the first thing he did was smack his fist into his other open hand and fill the room with a military grade voice that instantly woke everyone up and yanked their eyes from their phones and the far reaches of space.
"Good morning class! My name is Jimmie, and I am going to be your fleet manager. Being that this is a relatively small company, there need only be one. So, I oversee all the drivers and other DMs in the company. I know what you are doin' out there on the road and don't ever think I don't." Jimmie sticks his thumbs behind his belt on opposite sides of his buckle and continues, "When you think you're good to slide a U-turn when you're not supposed to, remember, I know what you did. When you think dumb ole' Jimmie won't know about the lizard you picked up at the end of your drive, I know that too. So, pop quiz everyone! When you think I don't know, what should you remember?"
"That you know." The class says together.
"Good job! I like how everyone answered except for the cool guy back there who's too cool to sing along with everyone else." Jimmie points out Andrew sitting slouched in his chair. "What's your name driver?"
"Andrew." Andrew replies, damning Jimmie for putting him in the spotlight for the second time today.
"What should you remember when you're on your phone while behind the wheel of a commercial motor vehicle?" Jimmie asks.
"That…you know?"
"Thank you", Jimmie says, "I need to know you're paying attention. Because every company knows that what you do in orientation, you're bound to do it on the road at some point."
Leopold glances over at Andrew who looks back at him with a "shut the fuck up" look.
"Anyway", Jimmie continues as he begins jotting down numbers on the whiteboard, "If you have trouble out on the road other than something safety or mechanic related, you need to give me a wee saw at this number." Jimmie stops for a moment but doesn't take the pen away from the whiteboard. Every other week he had to introduce himself, recite the same 'he knows' script, and jot down the same numbers on that board for a class of ever-changing faces. But today he knew what was to come in the following weeks, or even, the following days and it wasn't new driver errors on the road.
"However, should there be a serious problem…", Jimmie quickly jots down another number, "…and when I mean serious…", Jimmie gives the class a critical stare, "…it better be a donkey-butt spankin' problem."
"Like…what kind of problem?" Sarah asks with a shaky raised hand.
"The kind of problem that calls for extraordinary measures. Action far beyond the capabilities of the police. Problems that will stay with you for the rest of your life, that will haunt your dreams every night, make you question reality, withdraw into darkness, that may burn your heart with anger, disfigure your sense of logic, and may force you to sacrifice your time, money, and even your life. Those kinds of problems." The class stared at Jimmie wide eyed and frightened as he turned his back to them to face the whiteboard.
"Do any of you believe in ghouls?" He says, rolling up his sleeves.
The class became loud with chatter suddenly. Some saying that they did believe in ghouls while others said they didn't, but it didn't matter to Jimmie whether they did or not because he knew firsthand that ghouls existed and were among them.
"A few years ago, I had a driver call in about a dangerous situation happening at a shipper he was picking up from. He was trapped on the premises. Police and security wouldn't let anyone get in or out and refused to disclose the reason in detail. My driver was terrified and had no idea if he was going to get out of there alive. I needed to know what the hell was going on and most importantly make sure my driver got out of there alive, so I decided to go check it out myself. When I got there, they had the whole place surrounded and barricaded. I had to sneak in - don't ask me how I did it - but I managed to get in and meet with my driver who was docked in a door and locked in his truck. I told him we were going to sneak back out the way I came but before we left, I made the mistake of peeking into the warehouse through the open dock door. What I saw will surely stay ingrained in my mind forever. A hideous, cosmetic nibbling, powder face, goofy hair dew, self-indulged, narcissistic monster from beyond the stars…" Jimmie seemed to take a moment to get lost in those same stars as his voice trailed off and his face molded into determination and disgust.
"When the screaming stopped", he continues, "I had the misfortune of hearing that ghoul and his terrible expression of laughter. Like angels and demons together laughing at your very soul. After the gunfire and screaming ceased, whatever it was, was supposedly killed but at the loss of several brave police officers. When the news arrived, they were told not to cover the true events that took place, but instead, tell the masses that Beauty World Cosmetics Distribution Center was attacked by a former employee who snapped and decided to shoot up the place. I and my driver and everyone else who was there that night know the truth. We know that it was no crazy guy…it was a ghoul from outer space."
The class was quiet for a long while after the story was over until a driver breaks the silence.
"That's some crazy ass shit…" the driver says.
"It may be crazy" Jimmie wags a pointer finger at the driver, "but it's far from fiction."
"So, what's the reason behind us calling you and not the police?", another driver asks.
Jimmie Dawn raised his chin slightly and coolly latches his thumbs into his belt on each side of his silver belt buckle again.
"Let's just say I know a guy."