Field note · 9 June 2026

A pile of waybills is not yet a route sheet

Waybills prove a crate moved. A route sheet tells a driver the order of doors. Mixing the two is how two vans climb the same stair.

A road winding through hills toward a distant town
The road exists whether or not the waybill names the next door in a useful order.

Georgian depots are often rich in waybills and poor in route sheets. The waybill is a legal cousin of the crate: who sent it, who takes it, sometimes a stamp. It is not an order of work. When four drivers in Gldani pull from a shared pile, two of them will choose the same familiar stair because the pile does not forbid it.

A route sheet is dull on purpose. It lists doors in the order we want them knocked, with a note where a walk begins and where a van must wait. It can be a photocopy of our plate’s margin. It can be a handwritten column. What it cannot be is a shuffle of waybills on a dash at 6:10 a.m.

In a dispatcher briefing we often spend the first half-hour separating the two papers on the table. Owners who came up through driving sometimes resist, because they remember knowing the city. The new driver does not remember. The plate is for the new driver, and for the morning the owner is in Kutaisi.

If you want us to study a week, do not staple waybills in the order they were printed by the counter. Give us the order the vans actually ran, even if it is ugly. Ugly is information. A cleaned list is a wish.