Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Moving On

Moving day is almost here. The movers are showing up tomorrow to haul all of my stuff away. I have been going through all of the closets and cabinets and nooks and crannies to see what kind of junk I can get rid of. It is not as bad as I had feared. I have accumulated a lot less junk than I had thought.

Thursday is apartment inspection day so I will be doing some last minute cleaning after all of my stuff is gone. My parents were here for my graduation on Saturday and my mom decided that I needed some help moving, so she has stuck around to help clean the place up.

Moving day has always been a bad day in the past. I remember when I was packing up to leave Guam. The movers packed all of my stuff into shipping crates and I was supposed to install and sign security seals to each crate after they were nailed shut. The guys doing the moving tried to get me to sign the security seals and let them take them back to the warehouse. They promised me that they would make sure nothing went missing and that I should just give them the signed seals. I wasn't that trusting.

They got pretty pissed when they were nailing shut the last shipping crate which was only about 1/3 full. They kept going on and on about how I should let them finish nailing it shut back at the warehouse. They said they would be packing out someone else the next day and if I wasn't such an asshole, they would be able to pack my stuff together with this other persons stuff and save everyone some money. After spending the day with these guys mishandling my personal belongings, I told them I didn't care if they thought I was an asshole, but the security seals were going on before my stuff left my sight.

Another group of movers irritated me when I left Hawaii. There were a couple of island boys packing up my stuff. One of them asked me questions like "Hey Brah, You don't plan on keeping these golf clubs, do you?" while he was looking at my TaylorMade irons, Callaway driver, and Mizuno woods. I was asked twice if I really wanted to keep the golf clubs. I talked to the guy in charge of the movers and told him this guy needed to leave the house immediately. When the people that are moving you out of your house are eying your personal belongings and trying to talk you into leaving them behind, you start to worry about sticky fingers.

The supervisor talked to the guy and he stopped asking me if I wanted to leave any more of my stuff behind. Then he started bitching about how the last time he packed up a house, the guy that was moving bought everyone a pizza and sodas. He mentioned it about two hundred times. I told him the last time that somebody packed up my belongings, they brought their lunch with them. I talked to the supervisor about this guy again, only I was much louder and my language was heavily laced with profanity. Told him I wanted that guy out of my place immediately. This time, the supervisor apologized and told the guy to leave right away. When the guy told him that he needed a ride, the supervisor cussed him out and told him to call his brother if he wanted a ride that bad. Turns out, the guy had gotten the job because his brother worked at the moving company and he was already on thin ice with the boss. Anyway, he walked off complaining that the world was against him.

Anyway, the bottom line is that I hate moving. Hopefully, the guys that come to pick up my stuff tomorrow don't cause me any unnecessary aggravation. As many times as I have moved in the past, I figure I am due to get some good guys here to do the work.

1 comment:

blunoz said...

I hear ya man. Been there, done that. Been accused of being an asshole by packers and listened to LOTS of whining about how much time I was adding to the job because they weren't allowed to put anything on the truck without me or my wife there checking it on the inventory sheets. We've had too many experiences of stuff disappearing in moves and not being able to claim it because it wasn't on the inventory sheet. When we moved from San Diego to DC, our queen size box spring came off the truck, but no queen size mattress. They tried telling us we couldn't claim the mattress because it wasn't on the inventory. I told them (a) we didn't just buy a queen size box spring - there's a MATTRESS that goes with it SOMEWHERE, and (b) the jerks loading the truck in San Diego were tossing as much onto the truck as they could whenever my wife or I turned our back, so there was a lot of stuff that went on the truck without our knowledge or ability to check the inventory.
Anyway, I totally agree. Don't give them the signed seals. Make them seal it shut right there in front of you.