Do you mind?

Last night I was reading one of those articles in which people have posted tweets about various things. This article had as its subject, IQs and well, most of the people posting came across as either pompous asses or they didn’t read the tweet before they posted it.

The one that stands out most is the man who took one of those “IQ tests” through Facebook and proudly posted his results. I won’t embarrass him by telling you the number, but it was below the average American IQ. Still he bragged that his IQ put him in the top 77%. Then there was the guy (it’s always men who brag about this sort of thing) who claimed he was so intelligent, stating his IQ was 194, that he rarely had a conversation in which he had to actually use his brain. Right.

That article started me thinking about minds and people’s mindset generally. When I joined the Canadian army, they ran IQ tests and they determined that mine was such that they felt they could teach me something and assigned me to the Royal Canadian Engineers rather than an infantry regiment. I just say I’m as smart as I need to be.

Over the years I’ve lived in a couple of what, at the time were considered “company towns”, in that there was one major employer. Back in the early 1960s I lived in Oakville Ontario, the home of Ford Motors of Canada. Consequently the parents of many of my friends worked for Ford at various levels from the line to the front office. My parents bought me my first car during the time I lived there – an Oldsmobile. Both parents also drove GM products. The father of one of my good friends was an executive at Ford and he refused to let me park my Olds in his driveway.

Later in life, my partner and I bought our first house in Oshawa, the home of General Motors of Canada. At the time I worked for Toyota Canada and through an employee benefit was able to lease Toyotas at a very good price. These leases were always for either six months or 8,000 miles after which the vehicles were sold to dealers to be retailed as “company driven vehicles”. As a result I had many new Toyotas gracing my driveway over the years. After I left Toyota, we bought several vehicles over the years – usually Fords. I figured that having driven an Olds in Oakville, by owning Fords in Oshawa, I was just balancing the scales.

This is where the company town mindset comes into play yet again. On one occasion, I came home with yet another Ford product, a Mercury this time. My neighbours, who were both middle managers at GM happened to be in the drive the first time I brought this home.

She: I see you’re still driving foreign cars.

Him: at least its from the right continent this time.

Over time and the during the layoffs of the 80s I took a series of small jobs, but the income was enough to qualify us to buy a new Ford Aerostar van. Loved that van since it was one of the few vans available with a manual transmission. To make ends meet I began working with a friend in his courier business, mainly drug store deliveries. On one occasion, I pulled into a driveway in the south part of town only to have the man who answered the door tell me to get my piece of crap out of his driveway. When I told him fine, he could pick up his prescription at the store the following afternoon, he changed his mind. Every so often the medical office at the GM main plant would need to order something special, which on one occasion was live anthrax vaccine, from the largest drug store chain in town. I made that my first delivery. For some reason these deliveries were always on the morning run. Most of the time I’d take a few minutes to wash the van just before going into the complex. I mean we can’t have a dirty Ford rolling around the GM complex now, can we. But on that occasion I didn’t bother. I just wanted that stuff out of my van.

Perhaps the scariest example of the company mindset though was this one. I was helping some friends run a yard sale. Among the things they had were two used tires with plenty of tread left. Sure enough, some man saw them and after examining them said “these are perfect for my Impala”. My friend said to this man “Im not sure they’d fit your Impala because they’re off a Ford.” The man agreed and didn’t buy them on that basis. People! These are tires, manufactured by a company that makes tires in various sizes for various vehicles. They are not some specialty item such as rims where the bolt pattern may be slightly different or the holes a different size. A lost sale because both men were GM employees who couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact tires are made to fit all vehicles. That’s the reason there are standard sizes.

Yes, there are times when having a company mentality can help and as I’ve just shown, there are times when it can be a detriment.

And as for the first part of this post, if you have to use a number assigned after an IQ test as a weapon with which to bludgeon other people, perhaps you’re not as smart as you claim.

Cat.

Family curse

Have you ever noticed that in some families it seems that one career or industry keeps appearing in the working lives of relatives or ancestors? It almost seems like predetermination, or a family curse.

In my case, that curse seems to revolve around transportation in all its various forms. My maternal grandfather’s brush with transportation came when he was a hard hat diver who worked on the building of the current Welland Canal. This is the most tenuous of the connections. He wasn’t directly involved in transportation, but in creating part of the infrastructure.

His son, my uncle, worked for a trucking company specializing in boat haulage.

From there, the family moved into the office aspects of transportation. My favourite uncle worked for a couple of motor transport companies in what is called the Traffic Department This job involved pricing shipments among other duties that varied with the company. In one, I succeeded him in his job (remark from the interview “so you’re Bobby’s kin. Let’s see if you’re as good.”) I was. In his second company, he tried to hire me. I declined on the basis that it would have meant working for family. His son and daughter, my cousins, also followed him into transportation.

Both my grandmother and my worked for a travel agent – again, arranging transportation for people this time.

As for me, my first part-time job was as delivery boy for a drug store. My first full-time job was as an accounts payable clerk for a motor transportation company. From there I moved into their traffic department for a couple of years, then I succeeded my uncle. Several other jobs followed, always in motor transportation and always with carriers serving different parts of the country. From there I moved to a company that forwarded goods by both boxcar and airfreight. Sticking with transportation, I moved to Toyota Canada’s National Parts Department, importing parts and sending those parts to dealers. At one point I became the “VOR” clerk, “VOR” stands for “vehicle off road”, the most urgent category of complaint. I described this job this way: When a customer is standing in the dealer’s showroom yelling and screaming because his car needs a part, my job was to find that part anywhere in the world. My finest moment in that post was the time a dealer from Montreal called me on a Wednesday because his customer’s car needed something but couldn’t wait for a normal order because he needed his car for his wedding on Saturday. I found it in a California parts depot, got it to the dealer and the customer had his car back on Friday afternoon in time for the wedding. His new wife sent a nice “thank you” note to me afterward.

I further moved into international transportation after Toyota, working for a major importer where I was in charge of all imports into Canada. Fleet manager for someone else followed. When the economic downturn of the ‘80’s hit, I found work as a courier – again, transportation – and still later drove a cab for 7 years.

Even my hobbies involved transportation in some way. I was involved with the group that did timing for all races at Mosport Park and I enjoyed rallying.

Each and every job I’ve held involved some contact with or participation in, transportation. As I said at the beginning, it seems transportation is either my family’s destiny or curse, I can’t decide which. And just to carry it on to the next generation, one of my sons is a bus driver. Who knows what my grandchildren will do, but I’ll wager it will involve some form of transportation.

Maybe your family tree will reveal a similar pattern of employment.

Enjoy your weekend, stay safe on the roads and remember to hug an artist – we need love (and the occasional ride) too.

Cat.