Single Status Update
About once a year for the past 15 years I've helped someone move. Usually a stranger that I'm helping a friend help them move. A few times its been a cousin or someone I actually know. There are always stories if not lawsuits and police issues that come out of the moving process. Richard Prior even had an entire movie about it.
Well last night I got a text, then a call from a friend. She has two movers over and they're creeping her out, flirting with her and well moving so slow that day has turned into night. Would I mind coming over to hang out?
Sure, yeah. Oddly enough not the first female friend I've helped move at night after a text. So we moved her out. By we I mean myself and the 2 movers. She's not a sturdy person to move anything.
The truck was barely loaded by the time I got there and what was there, I had to shift around what they had packed, because professional movers can't seem to pack things in like Tetris blocks like I can. Body wise, they didn't look like they should be movers, but hey appearances can be deceiving. No weight belts or back braces, unless they were on under their clothes, but then why would they?
When I arrived, my friend commented that they've been there an hour and haven't done shit, just ask questions about her personal life and one of them tried to take a picture of her. Well that's creepy, so she just hid in the bathroom.
It took 2 hours from when I arrived, which was like 3 hours in total. Toward the end, the movers stopped to have a smoke break. We were ALMOST done. ALMOST. I kept working while both of them had a smoke break. My friend said when they got here, they said hi and then had a smoke break before they started moving. So 2 smoke breaks in 3 hours. Most might see that as an addiction, I see it as laziness, getting paid by the hour even if they're getting paid by the job.
Their second smoke break was 20 minutes. I kept working, my friend told me not to, that's why she has them. Being responsible I was concerned about her new building's move in permit time. We could make it if they didn't drag their feet.
So then on the move, we took 2 vehicles. My friend and I went in her car, the movers went in their truck. We had the lead vehicle. They were following us. Then my friend received a call from one of them asking why we're going this way instead of that?
Well then they just decide to turn off on some different off ramp. My friend starts flipping out and starts thinking they just stole her stuff. Since we're on a tollway / sky way, we can't just go back and take the off ramp. They know where we're going so we just went there with our way.
We were there long before them, about 30 minutes before them. All that time my friend was spazing out, still sure they just stole her stuff and she shouldn't have gone with the cheapest movers. When they finally arrived, my friend told me, "you deal with them, I just can't." Well in a way I had been dealing with it all this time, so why not? She gave me the keys, told me the condo number and then went to find the parking garage to park.
The movers were apologetic, they ran into traffic when they took that off ramp. Then their GPS wouldn't work with all the tall buildings. Yeah shit happens.
We missed the new building's move in time, so we had to illegally move her in. I'm sure her building wouldn't care we missed the window by 20 minutes, but the city of Chicago might. Their "boss" even showed up at the new place to expedite the process so his guys wouldn't get fined for illegally parking in a city street to move stuff up 20 floors. By boss I mean same college age as the other two movers and you'd never guess he owned a moving company.
After she was all moved up, I decided to escort them down to the ground floor and thank them. In the elevator their boss said "what? You're not gonna tip 'em?" I took it upon myself to tip them, which I guess was mistake. I tipped the both of them $20 each. Their boss said oh I think they deserve more than that. I told him, "look you cunt, they didn't have anything done when I arrived an hour into it, I had to repack the truck and its not even my stuff that they just moved."
The two movers got a chuckle out of it. Nothing was said the rest of the elevator ride. I was really surprised I called him cunt it just came out. Well at least he didn't punch me like a real mover would have.
Then when I got back to my friend's condo she said, "they forgot a lamp." Okay that's fine since we had to go back to her old place to get my car. Guess where the lamp was... Outside on the driveway, right next to where the moving van's driver side door was. So the driver walked right past it.
Not the worst moving experience, not the best. I give it a 6 on the scale of awful.
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Not even close. Captain Save-A-Ho is one of their favorite superheroes. He valiently rescues beautiful princesses from the ravages of light manual labor. They'll tell her she has a great and noble ally. After all, she needs to stay fresh and save her energy for when one or both of the movers comes over later and screws her brains out.
She did pack boxes neatly though! She had it all done which is more than I can say for other people I've helped move. Some people I've helped are packing the day of or they put books in a really tall box with coat hangers at the top to ensure its laughably misweighted.
I've got a lot less female friends over the past 5 or 6 years.
You sound like a nice guy. A good provider type. I hope you got a nice pat on the fedora as a reward. By the way, this is exactly why 100% of my friends are male. And only immediate family (siblings, parents) get help moving. No exceptions.
That's actually a big thing for me getting thanked. I get livid I'm not thanked. In fact I often wonder if I do things just to get thanked, like an ego thing. That's why I've done things anonymously to ensure there's no way to get thanked so I can get over my ego problem. There are other stories about that.
Heh, thought this was gonna go a whole lot worse. I helped a friend and his girlfriend move once, and that was a friggin' nightmare. Firstly, both were too noncommittal to actually move in together, and in fact they were simply moving into separate apartments closer to each other (in the long run, I think that was a good move). Secondly, both were rather scatterbrained, and my friend in particular is something of a packrat - meaning tons and tons of crap to move, and not a single thing had been packed beforehand. We started at 10:00 AM, and we weren't finished until well after midnight. Now, I'm not a very judgmental person, and certainly it wasn't friendship-breaking or anything, but my God, when I finally collapsed in my bed that night, I wanted to die so badly. It's not like I hold it against him (or her), I know how his mind works, how he has terrible trouble planning things out and whatnot, so yeah, that helped a lot in terms of me not internalizing it, but the experience itself, God I hated it soooooo much. Didn't help that we were going from the third floor of one apartment building to the third floor of another building (and the buildings themselves were too small to have elevators), so of course stairs, oh God, so many stairs.
Again though, I'm separating the friend himself from the situation - I mean, we all have our flaws, it wasn't personal or anything. Kind of interesting to reflect on - back in college (which is actually where I met him), I might have thought, "Geez, this guy's character flaws are just too much to put up with, maybe I shouldn't spend time with him," and there were a couple of times I might have actually done that back in college, but you get older, you realize, "Hey, we all have our character flaws that might drive other people crazy, intent is what really matters, not the outcome," especially because even without character flaws, things can have a tendency of going to shit no matter how much you try to avoid it (I know I've had that happen to me more times than I'd care to admit). Maybe I'm getting way too into analyzing the human condition here, but that day made me think about that a lot - you know, in between wanting to collapse and die while dragging a couch up six flights of stairs - the delirium makes you start to think about the real difference between well-intentioned plans falling apart and actively looking to screw people over.