This is a first and only draft on my experience as a freight broker.  More negative than it should be, but as in all breakups, the negative one thing that happens trumps the 40 positive things that happen any given day.  Today I decided that enough is enough, and I am "breaking up" with my first ever customer as a broker.  Sometimes the give and take in a business relationship just does not make sense for it to continue.  All in all, a great decision that I am happy with!  But writing about to sedate my second guesses about this decision.  The latest in many changes in life of late.  

    Fall on the Sword:  The Story of a Freight Broker and a Customer.   

For years when I did cold calls and emails, I heard and read comments along the lines of how companies and carriers did not need brokers, that brokers are merely unnecessary middlemen in the process of logistics, that drive up costs, lie, cheat and get fat on lazy customers.  I can’t deny the lying part, however I would argue out of the 3 parties at play, we brokers are well behind the carriers and customers in this department.  You get used to everyone lying to you, to every driver wanting that extra penny from you, to customer wanting that extra 1% off quote, to the other broker taking your load that you got last go round since he quoted $50 cheaper and poor little Suzie the Logistics Manager just picks the cheapest option every time, even though many times Suzie will suddenly “take” your rate at 3pm after the cutthroat broker’s truck “breaks down” yet again.  Find your magic wand, fix their mistake and save your customer.  Again. 

                In reality, working with the demands of time and money from the customer, as well as the cost demands and overall flakiness of carriers, while also threading the needles of both shipper and receiver, in any logistics transaction, requires a level of skill you just don’t see on paper, and brokers are pivotal, especially nowadays, in this process.  Long story short: customers have no clue how all this works largely, carriers have no clue how to communicate or develop relationships with customers, and dealing with all 4 parties (customer, carrier/driver, shipper and receiver) can be a complicated, messy and humbling process in many instances.   

                Like anything in life, we lean into the problems, the things that keep us up at night.  Not the 99 things you did right.  I’d say 90% of loads I move go without issue, but the 10% that have issues are enough to discuss, with most of the issues being coverage and rate related.  Finding that soft spot where you get the load but also don’t eat your hat.  In 2025 I’d guess that I had around 100 loads that either broke even or lost money.  That’s a lot of working for free!

                Most go without a hitch.  Finding a logistics person who understands the business and the give and take required for a successful relationship, especially in a Damn the Torpedo’s world of “Ivan was $50 less so I’m taking the cheapest option”, is hard.  I am 100% convinced God gave me one company with a few people who get it, who value what I do, and understand, in all modesty, that I am damn good at what I do.  And he could take that away any day.  I remember thinking "if I can just pay off this giant mortgage, I'll be ok".  If I screw up, I own it, I won’t beg for loads, and when you need something done, I will get it done.  Having this company helped them grow, and sustained what I thought was impossible when I started…raising a family on 9 on the back of my career.  There’s also no way myself or Sara are engaged in our faith without this happening.  It gave us the freedom to breathe.  It's 5 degrees, I'm typing while wearing NASA jammies in my home office.  Give me a break.  I'm so comfortable in many ways with this career.  I do miss selling toys though and wonder what would have happened if I stuck with radio.  Overall, I'm grateful and glad I did not.  He gave us a lot, and I pray to never take that for granted.

                The #1 takeaway after 19 years of this business is this: to be successful is to realize that everything is your fault.  Lean into this truth.  Laugh at it.  Embrace it.  Be humble about it.  Let it build trust and margins. 

                Here is our case study.

Customer:  1:30pm, HOT LOAD MUST DELIVER TOMORROW.  SHIPPER CLOSES AT 2:45.  Last broker fell off, can you help!

Joe translation:  The other broker waiting until 1:30 to cancel is a lie and manipulation tactic.  Truck “broke down” = they quoted a crap rate to undercut guys like me, couldn’t cover, gave back to customer so late that nobody else can cover that day in hopes they will push it back to tomorrow…very bush league by my competitor, a confirmed TQL rep (surprise!).  also, Inbound to Delaware = very undesirable load.

Joe:  I have a truck that will be there in 90 minutes, delivered 1^st thing tomorrow.

Customer:  Wow!  Thanks!

Joe to customer, 8am:  Load delivered 8am next day, thanks for your business.

Customer, 8am:  Wow!  Thanks!

Customer, 430pm:  Our customer was very upset that this load was delivered in a smaller truck that we thought.  It took longer to unload and they will never order from us again.  We want a discount.

Joe to customer:  News to me.  Did they mention this at 8a?  Did they sign a clean BOL and take the product? 

Customer:  Yes, but they are upset.  We want a refund.

Joe:  Sorry, legally, a clean BOL requires me to legally pay carrier as contracted.  I wish they said something 7 hours ago.  I did contract a 26’ dock high truck, the carrier lied.  Did your shipper notice this?

Customer:  Shipper (their company) did not tell us anything.  Not their problem, Joe. 

Joe:  I wish they would have.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  If I go to McDonalds, eat a burger, then come back 7 hours later asking for a discount because I had an issue with it, they'd probably laugh at me. If I mention the issue when it happens, they'd fix it.  This situation is kinda similar.  

Customer:  We will discuss with management and get back to you. 

Summary:  You and your magic wand saved the customers nearly impossible last minute request.  You fixed the issue caused by the crappy broker who could not get the job done and waited until 1:30 to give the load back to customer.  The carrier, while doing a good job in all other respects, lied to you about the size of the truck (which really did not matter and customer did not specifically ask for a certain truck…just one that fit 4 pallets).  The shipper made a mistake in not telling anyone of this discrepancy.  The receiver made a huge mistake by unloading the truck, signing a clean BOL, and then trying to shave the rate 7 hours late by complaining about it to the customer.  

If ANYONE in this process took 30 SECONDS to tell me anything, I'd do my job.  I'd fix other peoples mistakes.  That is kind of the definition of a freight broker.  

Moral of the Story:  The receiver, shipper, carrier and customer are all in some degree at fault.  You did *everything* correct and asked for.  However, you are the one who is 100% at fault and dealing with the consequences. 

                The is the end of the line with this customer and me.  Being a freight broker is 99% great, with many benefits.  Constantly being lied to daily, monthly, yearly, for decades now, being the one “at fault” in every problem can drag on you.  Keep moving forward, stay positive, and realize that nobody outside of the business will ever really get the mental gymnastics you do to make every customer happy while paying your mortgage. 

 

 

 

 

Call Your Mother.

            1/4/20.  Mom died.  She had a stroke in October.  A few months later, covid.  In between that, a perfect and beautiful daughter Janice was born on 2/19.  To be depressed would be selfish. 

So it goes.   

           

I grew up as the near-sighted youngest third son of devoted, antique-peddling parents in the wonderful 1980's.  Mom and pop helped manage Werts and Bledsoe Antique mall, named after the original mercantile store owners whose signage still stood above the 150+ year old building.  It was originally referred to as an antique co-op, not a mall.  Many days occupied with a cast of authentic, specific characters.  Bruce, the promoter / raconteur / ringmaster.  Mary, the motherly figure dealing in depression era glass, always with a smile and a bowl of candy by the cash register.  Teddy, matching my Old Man’s work ethic, beard, flannel shirt and beer gut, fixed mostly old chairs and furniture.  Kenny the auctioneer wore wedding dresses while whipping crowds into bidding wars at the Okeana auction on ridiculous Friday nights.  Many others. 

Momma loved Jadeite.  Now a wildly popular postwar collectible on a level she would have never imagined.  The Old Man found and restored early farm primitives, mainly trunks, and Native American artifacts.  Early childhood memories involve searching for arrowheads in recently tilled fields in the Fort Ancient and Miami Valley.

Mom and dad had an antique lifestyle a generation before they were emulated by the American Pickers type of reality shows.  Their heyday was in advance of being able to go to a store or Amazon and buy massed produced, worthless pieces of Made in China made to look stressed and old.  A true, genuine antiquity, not made by someone who was paid 8 cents an hour in a sweatshop 2000 miles away, can bring life, conversation, and soul to an increasingly homogeneous and soulless world. 

My parents had connections paid off at scrap yards where the Old Man would buy piles of old signage, Americana, art, tractor parts, discarded furniture, coca cola coolers, anvils.  Yes, anvils.  Think Roadrunner / Wile E. Coyote.  A rep from some national food chain (Applebees?) would come by once a year and fill up a trailer with odd Americana to eventually be nailed to the wall of one of the Same Old Corporate Restaurants ™ to enhance your dinner experience.  Mom and dad’s search required many mornings at scrapyards, barns of retired farmers, attics of little old widows, and, most importantly to me, flea markets. 

My personal favorite rummaging spot was Ferguson’s market, formerly a popular west side drive-in for the post-war generation.  A mammoth, weathered screen raining rust whenever a strong gust passed, hovering over a prairie of speaker poles symmetrically sprouting out on a vast open field.  Just 10 minutes north of Kenner St.  That is another story for another audience.

The older I get, the further away dad gets.  I honestly do not remember or would recognize the sound of his voice.  I’m ok with that.  I used to not be.  I wonder when I will forget mom’s voice?  Mom’s slightly too loud, absurd, wonderful, often nonsensical, joyous, beautiful voice. 

Time has taught me that there is nothing is to gain from thinking of all of my kids never spending time with their grandparents.  My Old Man.  Now, mom.  We had all the time in the world for her.  Until we didn't. 

Janice will never know Janice.  Joey, of course, won’t remember, either. 

So it goes. 

Please.  Visit your parents.  Visit your grandparents.  Call your mom.  Perhaps you won’t be able to soon.  Whatever you are doing right now is not as important.   

Where Ferguson drive-in/ flea market stood now stands the symbol of contemporary American progress: a Wal-Mart Supercenter.  Progress?  I still sometimes see the old cast of characters when I frequent nearby flea markets and malls.  They are older.  Fatter.  Grayer.  They could say the same about me. 

Teddy died about 20 years after dad.  His store was 2 blocks down from mom and dad’s place.  Mary died about 15 (?) years ago.  Bruce is still alive and well, thank God.  Some aren’t as fortunate.  Time is a terrible, scary, stupid reality. 

So it goes. 

"The most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children."-G.K. Chesterton.