When the movers arrived last Tuesday, an hour late, Craig immediately sent me out to the bank to get cash out to pay them. He’d gone with a small local operation, and we got a truck and two tiny Asian men to handle the entire move. I wasn’t too fussed about it; we’d done a lot of it ourselves and only had the big furniture and a few odds and ends for them to worry about. Plus, the lead guy seemed to know what he was talking about, so I left the house in high spirits to get the money.
I came home 5 minutes later to Craig blocking the doorway. “Don’t watch,” he warned.
Yeah, right. Like he can tell me not to do something without giving me a reason. Flag to a bull, baby.
So, I go inside and walk upstairs to the kitchen. Now, we had a 3-story townhouse, with the family room and kitchen on the middle level. All the bedrooms are on the uppermost level, and there’s another living room on the lowest level (which still has a half-case of stairs going down to the garage). There is a balcony on the middle level that overlooks the road where the truck is parked, but it never got used. Ever. For anything. Until this move.
When I walk in, one of the tiny moving guys is in the process of pushing one of our couches over the balcony. Turns out they thought it would be faster and easier to just move things out this way instead of trying to navigate all the stairs. I can only watch with my jaw dropped as they proceed to do this with 2/3’s of our stuff, including the filing cabinet he carried downstairs (upside down, I might add, you have no idea what a bitch that was to put all the paperwork back together).
Then, they tackled our entertainment unit. It’s actually 3 separate pieces, two shelving pieces that are 7’ apiece and then a connecting unit between them. They have glass doors covering half the shelves. Well, these guys figured they didn’t have to bother wrapping these since it was traveling about 8’ across the room and then over the balcony. They were just going to wrap them in the truck. As I’m watching, the first and bigger of the shelving unit gets moved to the balcony and tipped up onto its edge to go over.
All of a sudden, the unit starts sliding away, disappearing from sight, and all I can hear is shouts from below in a language I don’t recognize, and the frantic cursing from the man at my end. It was all I could do not to shriek in fear.
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t break. The little guy on the other end caught it. And I promptly went and locked myself in my bathroom until it was time to leave. My nerves couldn’t take it any more.
Everything arrived intact, and the entire move only took 4 hours, so I suppose there was something to be said about their methodology. It saved us money in the long run.
Not my nerves, though. Though are still in recovery.