I think that the next time I’ll chose the option pictured above. Little did I know when I contracted a moving service that it must have said “Three Stooges Moving Company” somewhere in the fine print.
It was an interesting day(s) to say the least. The movers were supposed to arrive at noon. Noon came and went, then 1:00, then 1:30… I have learned patience of late, but this seemed wrong. I contacted the movers and got voicemail. 2:00, 2:30, I called their Quality Control department and got a real person. Quality was questionable - control had gone missing… as did the driver. 3:00, 4:00, and finally a call… the mover would arrive at 6 PM.
Well, no… but a very nice young lady with a small car arrived. The look on my face must have been priceless when she told me that she came to move me. She moved me all right, practically into hysterics. I told her that if she could fit the contents of a three story house into her car, then have at it. She left a bit confused… then came another phone call… the driver will arrive by 9PM and the young lady is coming back to help him. Great… more waiting, and only three hours to kill with a confused stranger.
By 10PM, he finally arrived… and was going to start moving??? As he did his best to explain in some strange mixture of English and what sounded to be, by turns French, Portuguese, Yiddish, and Pig Latin, he was only going to wrap up the furniture and then return in the morning to load the truck. The man of unknown ancestry and the young lady with a decidedly urban tone to her speech patterns (in Maine?) were having difficulty understanding each other. It sounded like a bad day at the United Nations. That went well… until 1AM!!! That’s when they started arguing in my bedroom about the young lady returning to help in the morning. Eventually he said, “I go now… I get sleep… I be back… Two hours in morning… mooch mahanda, va hammeeshy oosh goosh”
OK, then. I was hoping he didn’t mean “Two hours in mourning,” because I was not going to open the door for some sad stranger speaking in tongues at 3 AM. My concern was unfounded. He did not return until 9AM, and the aforementioned young lady came soon after. He assured me, “two hours.” The two hours were finally over at 3PM… time must pass differently in Esperantoville.
Didn’t I already write a blog where I said “moving sucks?”
So 24 hours later than planned, I am finally on the road and enjoying the pleasures of picking up an unsecured wireless signal. Let the adventures continue…
It was an interesting day(s) to say the least. The movers were supposed to arrive at noon. Noon came and went, then 1:00, then 1:30… I have learned patience of late, but this seemed wrong. I contacted the movers and got voicemail. 2:00, 2:30, I called their Quality Control department and got a real person. Quality was questionable - control had gone missing… as did the driver. 3:00, 4:00, and finally a call… the mover would arrive at 6 PM.
Well, no… but a very nice young lady with a small car arrived. The look on my face must have been priceless when she told me that she came to move me. She moved me all right, practically into hysterics. I told her that if she could fit the contents of a three story house into her car, then have at it. She left a bit confused… then came another phone call… the driver will arrive by 9PM and the young lady is coming back to help him. Great… more waiting, and only three hours to kill with a confused stranger.
By 10PM, he finally arrived… and was going to start moving??? As he did his best to explain in some strange mixture of English and what sounded to be, by turns French, Portuguese, Yiddish, and Pig Latin, he was only going to wrap up the furniture and then return in the morning to load the truck. The man of unknown ancestry and the young lady with a decidedly urban tone to her speech patterns (in Maine?) were having difficulty understanding each other. It sounded like a bad day at the United Nations. That went well… until 1AM!!! That’s when they started arguing in my bedroom about the young lady returning to help in the morning. Eventually he said, “I go now… I get sleep… I be back… Two hours in morning… mooch mahanda, va hammeeshy oosh goosh”
OK, then. I was hoping he didn’t mean “Two hours in mourning,” because I was not going to open the door for some sad stranger speaking in tongues at 3 AM. My concern was unfounded. He did not return until 9AM, and the aforementioned young lady came soon after. He assured me, “two hours.” The two hours were finally over at 3PM… time must pass differently in Esperantoville.
Didn’t I already write a blog where I said “moving sucks?”
So 24 hours later than planned, I am finally on the road and enjoying the pleasures of picking up an unsecured wireless signal. Let the adventures continue…
