Working for Winners part 2 - Highly trained chauffers
I have already recounted the tale of our glorious Dutch MD who proceeded to systematically destroy a haulage business from the inside:

www.b3ta.com/questions/bastardcolleagues/post116252

Although Georg must have been worth millions to our competitors, thanks to his decree that we hire "2.6 drivers per truck" we were forced to relax our selection criteria somewhat and scrape the bottom of the barrel.

Firstly there was the bloke who was too lazy to use first gear on his brand new Scania lorry and instead used second or third. He blew up the gearbox.

Then there was the guy who used to turn up at work with a newspaper on a Monday morning, claiming some sort of relationship to whoever had been locally murdered over the weekend, roughly five minutes before he requested (paid) compassionate leave.

Said guy was a legend... His truck was mysteriously broken into and some expensive personal belongings were allegedly stolen (however the load of tyres he was carrying wasn't). He insisted we claim from our insurers. He also mysteriously inhaled toxic fumes at Purfleet docks and made enquiries as to how much compensation he would get. He didn't notice said fumes because he apparently had no sense of smell. The classic was when he couldn't be arsed to make a late Friday night collection and suffered a failure of his truck's air suspension. The breech in the rubber air seal was almost exactly the same shape as what you'd expect if you depressurized the suspension, stabbed a rubber seal with a penknife and then repressurized it rapidly. Cost us a bloody fortune.

One chap was a whopping 24 hours late for an "extremely urgent" Monday morning delivery at Glasgow (the sort of job we had drivers climbing all over each other to get, given we paid by the mile). Turns out it wasn't his fault. He'd gotten pissed the night before and didn't want to lose his license and damage the company repuation. We should have thanked him apparently...

The chap who's brother was discovered rolled up in a carpet by the side of the road, slightly dead.

The driver who made the front page of the local paper, driving a 15ft tall lorry into a 10ft tall canopy above a petrol station. Twat.

Then there was Mitch, who on his day could display US President standards of fucktardy. We paid our employees by the mile, using a mapping program to work out the distances travelled. Mitch couldn't be arsed to write 'Merthyr Tydfil' on his paperwork, opting for 'S. Wales' instead. No amount of subtlety seemed to solve the problem until I phoned him in his cab one day and suggested that I pay him up to the Welsh border. After that he played ball.

Mitch was as gulliable as they came and allergic to washing. Indeed, we suspected he had met a lady on his travels when word spread amongst our drivers like wildfire:

"You never guess what? Mitch had a bath this week!"
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 29 Jan 2008, 17:01, 2 replies)

...
Nrofolkline? Danzas? CCC? So many candidates...
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Tue 29 Jan 2008, 20:51, closed)

Hahaha
None of the above I'm afraid. I'm told they have a good reputation nowadays though. In fairness we also had a lot of drivers who'd been with the company since its startup and who refused to bend the rules and give into fucktardy.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 30 Jan 2008, 11:16, closed)