Commercial drivers are required to keep a log of their activities 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year; including specific notes on activities on, around and to their commercial vehicle, some to be made in specific form. One such activity is fueling, to include city, state, of which only the state name may be abbreviated.
As time passes on the road, many drivers, including myself, apply nicknames to cities/towns and highways. Personally, I refer to Little Rock, Arkansas as Pebbles. After repeatedly fueling in Pebbles I eventually began to write Pebbles, Arkansas in my logs.
Soon thereafter I received log violation notices from the company log compliance department. 'Pebbles, Arkansas does not exist,' read the notation on the violation notification. Three repetitions of the same violation require a personal conference with the Log Department Director to resolve the problem.
Upon appearing as directed, the log department director open our conference dialog in the department receptionist/clerks area with a statement generally parroting the log violation notation: Your fuel stop entry on (specific dates/times) logs are in violation. Pebbles, Arkansas does not exist.
My reply: "Pebbles. Little Rock." As I said Pebbles I held one hand out, palm up and looking at it as I did; repeating the action when I said Little Rock.
Silence followed for a noticeable moment.
The Log Director repeated the same statement, "Pebbles does not exit." Then continued, "We cannot find it anywhere on any map of Arkansas. She included the others present in her statement with a sweep of her hand.
A murmur of assent from others present followed.
I remained silent, folded my arms and gazed back at her, looking directly into her eyes. When her eyes returned to me and met mine I nodded the familiar affirmative down up motion of my head, and waited.
The director displayed apparent agitation and continued: "The law says you must spell out the name of the town where you fuel. Pebbles does not exist." Triumphant emphasis in her voice. Her face, chin thrust forward in assertion of her statement.
"Yes, it does. It is." I replied, repeating the words Pebbles and Little Rock with the accompanying comparative hand and head motions. The director glared back at me. There were small sounds from a few of the others present as they understood without further explanation. However, none chose to voice their understanding.
The director continued, "Sign this and submit corrected logs." She ordered, offering the form I was to sign.
I stood momentarily motionless looking into her angry/triumphant eyes then repeated the voiced pantomime, this time looking at each of the others present in turn until our eyes engaged and their understanding, or lack thereof, became clear from their guarded smiles or confused expressions. Only the director and a late comer to the exchange, a Recruiting Officer passing through the room who stood frozen in place watching the electrified conversation had puzzled looks by the time I again repeated the same two terms and pantomime for the third and final time.
This time the following silence was broken by those unable to control their giggles, murmurs or laughter; all of which was quickly stifles as the director fired sharp, stabbing looks about the room. This time she could hardly control her anger as she restated that pebbles does not exist and quoted the statute requiring the city names full spelling.
"It is spelled out." I stated. "P-E-B-B-L-E-S."
"Funny." She spat the words, embarrassment reddening her face, "You're a funny guy." Attempting sarcasm, then continued by re-quoting the statute requiring city name spelling.
"Yes, and it is." I agreed, "P-E..."
"But that's not its name." the Director interrupted. "You're supposed to write Little Rock." Glaring back at me.
"The rules only say the name must be spelled out. I've never seen where they (the rules) say it has to be the popular name used on any map. It's not even implied, much less directly stated."
The room buzzed with chuckles, giggles. The directors face turned dark, she threatened. "I'm going to personally inspect your logs and find every mistake you have or ever will make."
"How many violations have I committed since I've worked here?" I asked the room in general.
A quick look at my computerized violation record returned the number three.
"Three, the same three I'm here for now." I couldn't help grinning. "Please do." I invited (read challenged) "It might happen."
The room as a whole expressed some shock at my boldness.
"I'm only human, no where near perfect and I do make mistakes - but I cover them well by the way I proof read my logs."
Some moments of silence passed. I moved to leave, "I assume we're finished."
I opened the door, stepped through, and softly closed it, unchallenged.