Gurriers (54 page)

As far as metrological snow was concerned there was no chance of a white Christmas though. The temperature did drop slowly and steadily throughout the season, but always stayed a few degrees above freezing. Even though it got dark long before we finished work from Halloween onwards and we did have the occasional frosty morning, we did not have to deal with severe temperatures during the Christmas madness. That delight was waiting around the corner for us in January.

That’s not to say that we had no severe weather to contend with.

There were plenty of instances of pelting hailstones, gale force winds and two day non-stop rain for us to suffer. In winter in this country that sort of shite is a given fact. Dealing with it in this job is just a weathering up process that all couriers have to go through.

Christmas parties traditionally are when co-workers let their hair down and celebrate the season. The same applies to couriers, although couriers go much wilder than your average workers. It is very rare for a courier company to have their seasonal bash in the same place twice.

In ’97 we had ours – under the company name Lightning Business Solutions to mask the fact that we were a courier company - in the Four Provinces in Ranelagh.

This was the first year that the courier companies coordinated their Christmas parties to all take place on the same night – Saturday 13th – to prevent couriers from crashing the parties of other companies. This practice had cost every courier company a fortune in free drink each year, with gatherings tending to have more couriers from other companies than their own present. The previous year Vinno had attended five different Christmas parties and he was less than impressed that this year he would only be at our own.

I was kind of glad that there was only us there. We all had a great laugh about the lot of us being scrubbed up in our best clothes, looking like a bunch of defendants celebrating a big acquittal.

The office staff appeared eerily normal, dotted amongst the comrades that seemed to have had their heads transplanted onto the bodies of accountants. Aidan gave the impression of having had a personality transplant, such was the absence of stress about him, as he enjoyed some harmless piss taking with us all.

It started out as a civil congregation of close workmates that could have come from any business, but it wasn’t long before the free drink had the predictable effect on the proceedings. Things got louder and more boisterous with every drink consumed, and they were consumed pretty damn fast due to the fact that they were free! There was an increasing amount of all sorts of activity at the table: cigarettes being flung around; offended office girls striking out; drinks getting knocked over and physical horseplay. Ray wet his fingers and dipped them into an ashtray then managed to get black marks on three different faces before Charlie - victim number one- realised that what Ray was doing to Gerry - victim number three- had also been done to him. The
ensuing headlock nearly knocked a whole table full of drink over and got the attention of the bar staff.

Then there were the drugs. One of the first signs was the heads pointing down, focussed on whatever was happening on the laps, shortly followed by the lighting up of camouflage cigars, often after a vociferous argument over whose turn it was.

As soon as the class A’s were introduced, things moved up another notch. I noticed four of my workmates file into the gents, all blowing their noses, and happened to glance over as they all filed out again five minutes later - all sniffing like crazy.

I didn’t partake in any cocaine that night, but did do a pill, resulting in me clapping and whooping to Christmas music, wild eyed and sweating and all the while making faces as if trying to get my bottom lip up over my eyebrows. I also continued drinking at an accelerated pace, instead of easing off on the alcohol due to the ingestion of non complimentary narcotics, and made and smoked joints with decreasing amounts of caution despite the less than tolerant surroundings.

Aidan, John and Frank were the first to leave, followed shortly by most of the office staff. Elaine stayed on with Paddy and Marie stayed on due to the grip on her that a drunken Gizzard wasn’t letting go, though the lack of conviction in her protests betrayed the fact that she didn’t really want to be released. She was still with us when the prepaid tab ran out and even bunked in to the adjoining nightclub with us shortly after. Elaine had gone home with Paddy at this stage, which awarded Marie the award for last of the office staff member standing. The prize - a night with the Gizzard!

We all ended up more than a little intoxicated, though there was no trouble. Concerned bouncers eyed our every move but kept their distance.

Vinno had Aoife the next day, so there was no session back in ours, thank God! Some of the boys went back to Naoise’s flat to drink stroked bottles of whiskey, but I was beat by the time the club ended, so got a taxi back with Vinno.

All in all it was a great evening, though I suffered terribly for it the next day as usual when I indulge in class A’s and was only
fit for a duvet day that Sunday. Just as well that I did get that rest, because the next week and a half was the toughest that I had ever known as a courier, probably the toughest time that I had ever known full stop. This was partly due to the fact that it was busier than I had ever known it to be before, but also because there were sessions on every night for an exhausted worker to convince himself that he deserved to attend, maybe just for one drink, or two....

Christmas ‘97 for me was a much needed and well earned rest. Between the rigours of the job and the amount of partying with the lads involved in being seasonally single for the first time in several years, the few family and friends days at my mother’s was primarily a retreat of recuperation for me. I enjoyed the exchanges of gifts with my immediate family, particularly my grandparents. They alone seemed to accept my choice of occupation as something that I should be supported in.

Granny and granddad Flanagan bought me a hardback copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance while granny and granddad O’Reilly presented me with a much needed new pair of motorcycle gloves. They were the only bike related presents that I received that Christmas. The annual visits from the aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws and out laws were enjoyable as always.

It was particularly important for me to be surrounded by fond relatives because of the seasonal depression involved in being unattached at Christmas. I drank beer consistently, but not as much as I had been accustomed to drinking with my work-mates. I only sneaked the occasional toot from joints out of my
old bedroom window and did no class A’s whatsoever.

In terms of sessioning I was quite mature about the whole thing. There was never any risk of me receiving a “you ruined Christmas” speech from any family member.

Courier companies do very little business between Christmas and New Years and tend to encourage a lot of their couriers to take a break for the week while they run on a skeleton crew.

Vinno, like most fathers, took the week off to spend with Aoife. I, being sad and lonely, persuaded my base controller to select me as one of the skeleton crew. Because they didn’t expect the couriers that came in to make anywhere near a decent wage, the powers that be decreed that for this week only that they would give their couriers a basic wage of £250. This was the first time that this had ever happened in lightning. It was due to the lack of cover caused the previous year by couriers not coming in because there was not enough to be made.

I radioed in from bed at ten to nine on December 29th and there I stayed until half ten, when I got up just for the sake of having something to do. Despite badgering my base controller to let me roll into town, I was kept there for “high south” cover until Prescon in Sandyford mercifully rang for a courier to bring something to Fairview just before 11 o’clock. I wanted to head straight in with it, but I was kept standing by in Sandyford for a further 20 minutes after picking it up.

Twenty cold and windy minutes during which I must have checked the radio six times to make sure that it was on, such was the lack of activity. On the last check I flicked the radio onto Channel Two and then blew a long loud raspberry into the radio.

“Four Sean,” Aidan called.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Do you realise that everyone else on the air is in the base?”

“Nobody else standing by anywhere?”

“No. Consider yourself yellow carded for actin’ the bollix on Channel Two.”

“Ah, come on, man, it was just boredom!”

“An’ ye’ll have me watchin’ ou’ for ye when it’s busier an’ someone is actin’ the maggot.”

“I never do that!”

“Until five minutes ago.”

“Yes.”

“Yellow card.”

“Can I start rollin’ in with this?”

“Is it cold up there in Sandyford?”

“Freezing!”

“You just keep standin’ by there til I tell ye to head in.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Remember tha’ the nex’ time ye feel like being smart on Channel Two.”

Eventually, a little after 12 o’clock, Ray was sent south from Dublin 2, releasing me to head in, freezing and ill-tempered.

Miraculously - under these conditions - I got a special coming from Young’s for Clonshaugh Industrial Estate in Coolock to go with my Fairview. In the post room when I was asked if I was going straight there with it, I was only too happy to deliver a long winded rhetoric about how the rest of the world was still on holidays and that just a few poor unfortunates like ourselves were the only ones at work.

The post room worker – not the usual guy Harry– who was presumably still on holiday himself while this young stranger covered for him – just gawked at me blankly until I explained to him that there was no work out there to delay me with their urgent package. I left the postroom scowling to myself that rookies who knew fuck all about the job were taught to put pressure on couriers before realising why.

I went straight to the base for tea without radioing in that I had Young’s on board. I desperately needed to get some heat into me ASAP.

Ten Al, Twelve Joe, Twenty six Paddy and Nineteen Naoise were lounging around the canteen in a very relaxed manner. Ray had gone south and Spunky west. They were the only two not in the base. Naoise was the first one to blow a raspberry
but by the time he was finished, all the others had joined in the chorus.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yiz are all very funny.”

“At least we don’t act the bollix on Channel Two.”

“Well, at least we don’t get caught!”

“Let alone catch ourselves.”

“How was I to know that all yous lazy fuckers were in the base?” I said.

“Coz it’s like this every year.”

“This is my first year here, dipshit!”

“Fuck’s sake, it feels like you’ve been around for years.”

“That’s just coz you’re gettin’ old an’ beginning to lose yer marbles, Joe.” I replied.

“Sure they started goin’ bleedin’ years ago, man! I’m lucky to fuckin’ have any left at this stage!”

Aidan, who left his station frequently when it was this quiet, returned to the hatch on hearing the conversation. “Here, Shy Boy, have you dropped tha’ direct to Clonshaugh?”

“Of course not, I’m just givin’ it five to fling a quick cup of hot tea into the cold carcass.”

“Looks to me like you’re just boasting to the baboons about actin’ the maggot on Channel Two.”

“You know as well as I do that I’m having the piss taken out of me.”

“I suppose that’s you that keeps makin’ monkey noises on Channel Two Friday afternoons?”

“No. Honestly, man, I don’t do that shit. I was just bored and very cold.”

“Sure it hasn’t even gotten properly cold yet. What are ye goin’ to do in the snow?”

“Hopefully keep moving. I got cold because you had me standing by for so long.”

“What about gay bikers on acid?”

“What about them?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ smart. I think now that it sounds like your voice that shouts that into the radio on Channel Two.”

“I swear to God it’s not. Sure wasn’t I in the base a few times when that was done?”

“Well, the eye is on ye now! I need to get ye movin’ with that direct.”

“Can I just get a quick-”

“Get movin’ NOW or it’s bag an’ radio!”

“Here, Shy Boy, grab a few mouthfuls of this. I just made it a minute ago.”

“Thanks Joe. Any sugar in it?”

“One big one.”

“That’ll do nicely.”

I left the base in a major sulk with my base controller. My eyes were as watery as hell and I was gulping for air. That was nothing to do with Bollicky Balls though; I had taken too many swigs from Joe’s cup of tea and was doing my best to soothe my burning mouth and throat.

I was thick–skinned enough at this stage to deal with the very real threat of being fired by that asshole. Vinno had warned me about how easy it was to get the bullet this time of year.

The crazy season was over and all courier companies were looking to get rid of couriers for the quiet season. Any courier who let his guard down could easily find himself thrown out with the wrapping paper, no matter how hard he had worked in the death defying frenzy leading up to Christmas. This fate had to be accepted as fact by any courier wishing to keep his job.