Driver Jatt

“Today I stood in a cage. Not by choice.”

In the grand scheme of things, I generally don’t like standing in cages. My personal preference is for wide-open roads and the occasional scenic lay-by. But when an urgent collection is in Slough, you go where the cage is.

In my mind, I was doing a full re-enactment of that 90s song “Don’t Let Go” by the girl band Eternal. Hands on the mesh, yearning gaze into the warehouse beyond. Thankfully for the staff at this particular distribution centre, the performance was in my mind only.

In reality, I was here for a box. An urgent one.

The Rules of the Cage

The first thing you see is the notice. Printed in bold, bald caps telling drivers NOT to shout, whistle, or bang on the counter. The staff know you are there and will come to you (when they can). It sets the tone. You are a problem to be managed, a noise to be silenced.

The cage itself measures a little over 3×2 metres, with a height of 3 metres. Just enough room to pace two steps. There are various signs dotted around reminding drivers of their Health & Safety obligations. An 80s-style CCTV camera, its lens foggy with age, points directly into the area. Its sole purpose seems to be to catch in the act any driver daring to show a flicker of frustration for feeling ignored or generally being treated like a pariah.

This is the Norm, Not the Exception

This cage scenario isn’t exclusive to this place. It’s the standard operating procedure at a huge number of distribution centres and secure units up and down the country. Drivers are funnelled into these holding pens, treated with baseline suspicion whilst they collect and deliver the very goods that keep the place running. The underlying logic is clear: they must be thieves, right? Where’s the trust? It’s a system designed for the one bad egg, at the expense of the ninety-nine just trying to do their job.

It might be genuinely beneficial for these companies to consider alternative methods. Systems that maintain security while also fostering a basic, positive relationship with the drivers. Especially if they want new blood to come into this industry, which they desperately do. You don’t attract people with cages.

The People in the System

Fortunately, the staff in this instance were reasonably accommodating. Friendly, for sure, in the way you can be when there’s a metal grid between you. But I couldn’t help picking up the vibe that they really do hate their job. And I don’t envy them. They work in demanding roles involving relentless physical labour and often impossible schedules. The nature of the work—dealing with the constant pressure of logistics, the beeping of forklifts, the shouted order numbers—breeds a specific kind of stress. It translates into a load of staff who look, frankly, a bit morbid. Trapped in their own way.

A Lighter Note from the Road

In other, much freer news, I went to Scunthorpe. Learned something new. The folk round there don’t call them roundabouts. They call them ‘circles’. As in, “take the third exit at the next circle.” It’s a small thing, but it’s a reminder that every place has its own rhythm, its own language. Even if the national language for drivers sometimes feels like it’s just signs on a cage.

The job gets done. The box was collected. I got back in the van, left the cage and the circles behind, and pointed the wheels towards the motorway. The open road never feels quite as open as it does after you’ve been locked in a 3×2 metre square.

So, do you need a courier who’d ideally like drivers to be treated better?

Click on www.frigate-express.co.uk and use the calculator to quote you.
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