In 1978 I climbed into the cab of my Uncle Don Kelso’s Kenworth and, like any kid would, laid on the horn. I was amazed at the gauges and buttons, and the incredible distance out over the top of that long nose. But as I rode down the highways with him during that summer, I learned a more important lesson, one that too few seem to carry with them today. He taught me the meaning of professionalism and customer service.
As we hauled, I came away with the impression that Uncle Don knew pretty much everyone on the road. We talked on the CB, we stopped to help other drivers, and we spent time at his favorite mom-and-pop stops laughing with the server and joshing other drivers.
I recall an incident with one in particular, a trucker who’d gotten angry at the loading dock after being held up. I did not see anything I thought the driver should have been ashamed of, but Uncle Don didn’t see it that way. He had a chat with that trucker; Uncle Don believed he gave away every bit of power or leverage he might have had over the unload personnel by losing his temper.
“When you lose your temper with someone who couldn’t care less how you feel,” Uncle Don told me, “you give away any and all power you had to make a change.”
His message on drivers stopped on the side of the road: “If a driver doesn’t answer his radio, he may be having a medical emergency, or he may need someone to stop and make a call for him. Or maybe we can help him get going again. In any case, out here in the middle of nowhere” — we were in Kansas one particular time I recall – “it could mean life or death for that driver.”
I remember that particular trip with my Uncle as if it was yesterday, and I took the lessons learned to heart.
