“How do you tell which kid is a teamster’s on the playground? He’s the one sitting around, watching the other kids play.”
That’s not really fair. Teamsters have it tough. They’re the first ones in, and the last ones out. Their turn around times are frighteningly small. Plus, everybody makes fun of them.
Teamsters have a reputation for being surly, as well as lazy, but that hasn’t been my experience. Maybe it’s just my amiable nature, but they’re usually friendly to me.
Case in point. I drove a lot this weekend, but I forgot to fill up my gas tank. When I got to set, I saw the little red light come on. Shit. Now I’m going to have to pay whatever gas costs in Westwood. (If you don’t live in the LA area, Westwood is a sovereign nation with it’s own currency. It looks just like our money, but somehow, everything costs twice as much.)
Desperate, I asked the transpo coordinator if I could just get a gallon from his fuel truck, to get me to the nearest Costco. He picks up his walkie and goes, “Hey, Tim, why don’t you fill up Anonymous’s car for him?”
Isn’t that awesome? I mean, I realize he’s giving away someone else’s money, but still. He’s just cool.
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When I started out, Teamsters were fat scary guys with cigars. They yelled at you and told you to “stay the f*** ” out of their business. Then they slept in the cabs of their trucks and in the vans and yelled at you if you woke them up.
Now, I know one teamster who’s a retired college prof. Another writes crossword puzzles for a hobby. I’m as likely to hear NPR from their radios as anything else.
I heart Teamsters too.
I had the exact same thing happen to me on my last film. I always seem to get along with everyone except for 50% of the producers I meet and a coordinator here and there.