New Boss Fired Me From Trucking Company To Save Money; Within A Month…
Building From the Ground Up
Jenkins taught me everything: how to navigate mountain passes in winter, how to talk to clients, and how to solve problems on the road without calling in.
“The freight business isn’t about trucks,” he’d say. “It’s about trust.” For 15 years, I’d built that trust one mile at a time.
The next morning, I met Bill Thompson at Riverside Cafe. He didn’t waste time and said, “I heard what happened. Bunch of idiots. You’ve personally saved our bacon more times than I can count.”
“Just doing my job,” I said. “No,” Bill shook his head. “You did more than your job.”
Bill leaned forward and said, “We’ve got a contract with High Veil, but it’s got a 30-day termination clause. Who are you driving for next? Because that’s where our business is going.”
By lunchtime, I’d met with Jerry from Western, who said the same thing. By dinner, three more clients had reached out with similar messages.
I called my buddy Frank, who’d left Hyale last year. “What would it take,” I asked, “to start our own outfit?”
Frank was quiet for a moment. “You serious about this, Harvey?” “Never been more serious in my life,” I replied.
“You’d need capital, licenses, and insurance,” he started listing. “And clients,” I added, “which I’ve got.”
That night, Elaine found me at the kitchen table surrounded by notes and calculations. “What’s all this?” she asked.
“I think,” I said slowly, “I’m starting a freight company.”
Three days after being fired, I walked back into Hyale’s office to collect the personal items from my locker. Darren spotted me in the breakroom talking with Doug and Alejandro.
“Harvey, this is private property,” he said. “You can’t just walk in and disrupt operations.”
“Just collecting my things,” I said, holding up my old thermos and the family photo. “And saying goodbye to friends.”
Darren crossed his arms. “I’ve heard you’ve been talking to our clients, so that’s what this was about.”
“Word travels fast in the freight business. They called me,” I corrected, “to ask why I wasn’t delivering their shipments anymore.”
“Well, stop it,” Darren snapped. “Interfering with our client relationships could be construed as tortious interference with business relationships.”
“Can’t control who calls me,” I said, keeping my voice even, “or what decisions they make about their shipping needs.”
“Listen carefully, Harvey,” Darren stepped closer. “You signed non-compete and non-solicitation agreements. If you try to poach our clients, we’ll bury you in legal fees.”
“Check those agreements,” I said, remembering something important. “They expired after 10 years. Jenkins made sure of that.”
The next day, I got a certified letter from High Veil’s lawyers anyway. It was pure intimidation.
That same afternoon, Bill Thompson called. “Hyale just tried to raise our rates by 15% with no explanation,” he fumed.
One week later, I was sitting in a small office I’d rented. We’d filed the paperwork to establish Wilson and Reynolds Freight LLC.
Then Patty, Highvale’s longtime dispatcher, called. “They’re planning to shut down the Tulsa operation entirely in 6 months,” she whispered. “Everyone here is getting laid off.”
I told Frank what Patty had shared. “We need to think bigger, Harvey,” he said.
We spent the rest of the day revising our business plan. We called our bank contact about financing for more trucks and researched warehouse space.
The next morning, I asked Jenkins to meet for lunch. “How much do you need?” he asked after hearing the plan.
“I’ll be damned if I’ll sit by while some corporate vulture scatters them to the wind,” he said, pulling out his checkbook. “Let’s build something right this time.”
