A completely unofficial refuse collection companion.
Something I started a long time ago, but never updated. So here is what I have so far.
The following incidents either happened to me, or someone I know, or someone they know. Therefore most of them are true, or I believe them to be true. If you are from the Health And Safety Executive however, it’s all made up, honestly.
I should have realised what the job was going to be like when I attended the interview. For one thing, I applied for a job as a litter picker, or street cleansing operative as they are now, and it was only for three months. The interview was on a Thursday, and it rained. (Well it was May.) I cycled to the depot and was consequently soaked through by the time I got there. Still, they must have been desperate as I was taken on to start the following Monday. As the interview was ending, just before they gave me the job, I was asked if occasionally I would mind covering the Refuse Collection crews. Wanting the job, however temporarily, I said I had no objections. Boy, was I impetuous. Anyway, come the Monday morning, I arrived and filled out some forms and was asked to go on one of the rounds. Oddly it was the round covering the area that I’d just cycled to work from. (See what I mean?) As it turned out, I seemed to have some sort of aptitude for refuse collection, (although these days some may disagree), and since then I have done not much more than a week of Street Cleansing. Since then it’s been ten years of being cold, wet, and doing the wrong job, but there have been more than a few laughs and it’s these I hope to recall.
I suppose the best way to start would be to tell you about G133YWK, my old dustcart. Almost all of my early time as a binman was spent working as a member of the crew of this truck. Once I joined her crew I was rarely on with any other vehicle, except for the times she was off the road. I’m sorry if my use of the feminine appellation offends anyone, but if I used “he” and talked about love it would be worse. Again, sorry, but I am what I am as Popeye (or Descartes) said. We have been through a lot together, she and I, and I don’t just mean walls. There were hedges, cars, grass verges, and a certain garage, which got moved three feet off its damp course without collapsing. Some incidents were terrifying at the time but all can be laughed at in retrospect, unless of course it was your car. Sorry. The one that scared me most at the time, and indirectly led to the above title, happened about eight years ago. We, (me, the driver, and the truck) were going to the transfer station to tip off. As we drove down a particular road which had several cars parked on the opposite side of the road, we saw a delivery van coming towards us at a fair old speed. The van didn’t seem inclined to slow down and became apparent we were going to have to brake, and quite smartly. All three axles locked up and we began to skid. It looked like we weren’t quite going to make it before the parked cars. The van driver realised this as well, so he accelerated. This saved the situation as it enabled him to get out of the bottleneck of parked cars before we reached them. It has taken me three times longer to write this and will take you twice as long to read about it than the incident lasted. We stopped amidst a smell of burnt brake linings as the van shot past us and up the road. I’d like to think the van driver had to change his underwear as we did. The only coherent thing I can remember as the brakes locked was whether I should open the door and jump. My driver and I just looked at each other in the sudden silence and I muttered something about getting out for a walk. Now you want to know about the title, don’t you? Well since then whenever we went into a corner a bit fast, or car pulled out right in front of us, I tended to jam my right foot down as if there were dual control brakes. Over the years this left a mark in the corner of the passenger side foot space. It would have been worse but originally the fire extinguisher was in the same corner and initially took the brunt of the wear until it was moved up onto the wall behind me.
She hasn’t always been kind to me either. Two of us were riding on the back (Impossible now, with lifts on.)(Actually we weren’t supposed to do it then either.) I must say I was pretty good at it though. From a standing start I could slide across the width of the truck and catch hold of the far side. Now you think I’m going to say I fell into the back. Wrong! Just about the only place I haven’t fallen. Actually we were going round a corner as I stupidly decided to shift my position. I dropped onto the road, thinking I could time it right and run behind the truck. (This shows what an optimist I can be at the wrong time.) I stumbled and then fell, body surfing along the road for ten or fifteen feet, before jumping up as the wagon stopped. I’m all right I said before noticing the other two were cracked up with laughter. It wasn’t the first time that something similar had happened. Very early on I had been hanging on the door. (Look, I know we’re not supposed to do these things, but we used too, okay? Get over it.) I was looking behind the truck and was about to drop off at the next pile of sacks when the driver told me to wait. It’s all right I said we’re not moving very fast and let go. Unfortunately there was a lamppost behind me. Splat! I made a star shape as I slid down it to the ground. Again (Amazingly) I was unhurt. The only time I got hurt dropping from a vehicle was when it was stationary. I put my bag through the open window and then dropped to the ground, twisting my ankle on the kerb.
Dogs
We have always had problems with dogs, and over the years everyone has come into contact with them and formed their own method of dealing with them. My own preferred option is to keep away from them unless I’m certain they are friendly. This has led to one or two missed calls, but I’ve never been bitten. The closest I’ve come is when an elderly looking terrier launched himself at me as I turned around to walk out of the garden. He (It may have been a she, I didn’t have time to check) sank his teeth into several layers of black sacks I was carrying. Missed me! The next ten or so houses had to put up with bags with teeth marks in though. These black bags certainly came in handy. I know of one binman whose method of dealing with growling dogs was to wave whatever bag he had in his hand at it saying, “Shoo.” Amazingly it usually worked, many a dumbfounded Doberman or Rottwieller completely at a loss as to what to do next. I also heard of a binman who was stranded in someone’s shed for half an hour when he went through the back gate to collect the sacks, turned around and found a huge Alsatian looking meaningfully at him. He backed up toward the shed as the dog advanced, found it was unlocked, pulled the door behind him as the dog started to bark. When he was late getting to the next pick-up point, his mate went to find him. Easily done with the dog barking his head off. All it needed was a simple diversion, (A stick down the garden I believe) and he was away. Always checked the garden before entering after that though.
Accidents & Breakdowns.
All right, I have to admit accidents aren’t usually funny, but the ones you remember often are. The one that comes to mind most readily is the case of the mobile garage. Reversing into a cul-de-sac with a row of garages to one side the driver is momentarily distracted, the rear of the wagon continues round, making contact with the corner of one of the garages. There is a huge crunching sound. We stop and jump out to look. The one wall of the garage has been pushed along the damp course about two or three feet, but that is the sum total of the damage. The truck is completely untouched apart from some scratched paint. The garage is just the wrong shape now. Of course they had to knock it down and rebuild it. (About two months later, some other large vehicle, an artic I think, did the same thing and knocked down two walls of the same garage.) The other one that really sticks in my memory wasn’t actually an accident. It happened so slowly I’d hesitate to call it a near miss. It was a really horrible day. The snow on the ground had frozen and grit was almost non-existent. Somehow we’d managed to reverse up a slope, (Avoiding the car that always parked opposite the junction.) and now we were coming out, slowly, very slowly. The driver puts on the brakes, but G133 wants to slide. Now he puts her into reverse, but still she slides, not actually gathering momentum, but not stopping either. We are getting closer and closer to the idiot who parks opposite the junction. (Remember him?) Finally the wheels grip and we stop right next to the car, the towing ring is so close to his door you couldn’t push a wage slip between them. We both got out and had a look and there was much wiping of brows and deep breathing.
I suppose breakdowns aren’t really funny either, but again, sometimes they are. They happen in stupid places or inopportune times. (Basically they happen when and where you don’t want them. Nothing is a bigger guarantee of a breakdown than one of your crew saying I need to finish early.) They do happen in interesting places though. I remember breaking an air pipe in one close, blocking someone’s drive because, of course, the brakes locked on. It was a beautiful day, the driver and the other loader (This was on the wheeled bin collection) both sat on the kerb and dozed, I went off to do a few close by pull-outs and to see if I could find the other crew and tell them what was happening. That only took about half an hour and by the time I got back a mechanic had managed to find us. (Its not that easy for them, we all get out, they’re stuck at the yard all day.) After he’d jacked up the cab and found the broken pipe he discovered that none of the bits he’d brought would fit, which meant another delay. Like I said it was a nice day, we hadn’t much left, why worry? Of course all the cars in the close were a little annoyed. The only way they could get past us was to go over the pavement, but we explained the problem and they usually went away satisfied.
We had one problem that never was explained though. After the wheeled bin rounds were altered and we started to work in pairs we were doing one road along which the lifts always cut out, usually around same place. Four or five times we had this problem, went back to the yard, found the lifts working again, and came back out. The mechanics must have thought we were taking the mickey, but as soon as we changed the day that particular road was done we never had any more trouble in that one spot. (Of course the lifts still kept breaking down, but at least they were properly breaking down, not some weird twilight zone not working.)
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