I’m not going to write too MUCH about my FINAL straw with bill because it actually INVOLVES legalities.
I’ll divulge that INFORMATION in a FEW months.
LET me take a M-m-m-ma-MOMENT to jump for JOY and SCREAM at the TOP of my LUNGS:
“I MOVED TODAY!!!”
today’s MOVE was nothing like last september’s shit show
it was no PARTY either.
MY first HURDLE was when I WENT to the ATM to withdraw some CASH for the MOVERS. i ORIGINALLY was going ask an ARMY of friends for help but instead hired off craigslist, more on that in a moment.
ATM: Withdraw. TRANSACTION CANNOT BE COMPLETED.
so, I buy a sandwhich, SAME bodega. DEBIT card worked fine, COOL.
open laptop: |email| Security Alert: Unusual Debit Card Activity
I call: SUPPOSEDLY there was another scam WHERE EVERYONE’s CC # was stolen from an UNKOWN merchant. GREAT.
CARD deactivated until I get my NEW one TUE or WED, super CONVINIENT while MOVING.
HURDLE 2: the MOVERS
HIRED, SATURDAY morning // MY move, SUNDAY morning // LAST minute, YES!
i hired them OFF craigslist, $50 per hour flat rate, nuff said.
they’ll BE there 2PM – SHARP!
2PM an UNKOWN NY number comes in; and EASTERN EUROPEAN guy barely ABLE to pronounce the PHRASE in ENGLISH “I’ll be there in Thirty-Minutes.”
2:30 – My new Roomey Chris (His Real Name) came with the CAR to help get my cat and SMALL stuff.
the UNKOWN number from NY rings again, “I’m HERE” this time IT is IMPOSSIBLE to EXPLAIN to him my apartment NUMBER. It’s 3C, 3D? NO, 3C. 5? No, 3 like T-H-R-E-E, THREE C — C as in CAT.
Then he was offended, “I know how to fucking spell you ass hole.” He hung up. TEN minutes go by, he’s still not up STAIRS.
Chris FOUND him knocking on the DOOR of 3B.
FINALLY he COMES up and STARTS to interrogate me IMMEDIATELY.
Hands on his hips, “you pack these?”
“Boxes are too big.” Pause. I’m waiting.
He’s mid 30’s, 5’8 a little bigger than me, looking my 6 boxes up and down silently thinking.
Looking around at my OTHER stuff, “This too?”
“No, I’m bringing it in the CAR.”
an EVEN longer PAUSE.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” I didn’t know there was an option whether he was or wasn’t going to do it.
I break in, “SO we’re good?”
“To Brooklyn RIGHT?”
“I CHARGE $50 an hour.”
“I get your stuff, AND bring it to BROOKLYN. I have THREE hour minimum. YOU pay me when I GET to Brooklyn, I bring your STUFF upstairs for you. Okay?”
Fair ENOUGH, there’s a light CONTRACT then he GETS to work, he NOTICES my cat.
“My friend, when YOU get to the NEW place you put the cat IN first. FOR good luck, MOVE nothing else in except the cat.”
I HONORED his wishes later that DAY of course.
FIRST THING, MOVE!!
HE dropped a box, he knocked things over, HIS helper was well over 60 and not EVEN close to capable of carrying the BOXES. Again, ONLY 6 - but this guy.
MY first MOVER experience in NYC was when Renee and I MOVED from DETROIT. THEY showed up, 22-23, college brau’s, HAULED an entire truck full of a STUDIO apartment up 4 flights of a BACK unit. IT was 100 DEGREES, no AC. THEY rocked it in like an HOUR.
THESE guys though.
WE get outside, the YOUNGER Eastern European, I think they were HUNGARIAN, was yelling at the OLDER man.
“MY stupid PARTNER left the keys in the ignition and KILLED the battery. WE need cables, to JUMP. Do you have CABLES?”
I haven’t had a CAR in 2 years, no I do not have CABLES.
“Any drug store in the CITY will have them. PLEASE, take me?”
Seriously. This HAPPENED. He got in the CAR.
Chris and I drive him to Duane Reade. OF course they don’t have jumper cables!
INNER city, yeah EVERYONE’s for sure shopping Duane Reade to get a set of Jumper Cables.
“Dude, you gotta talk to your boss and get another truck or a jump. This isn’t my problem. I need to WORK later. Which I technically didn’t, but I WANTED to go to the studio to do some WORK.
I get to my NEW place in Brooklyn, 3:45. They HAD everything moved into the truck when I left them in East Village.
“My friend, we will GET this jumped and BE right on our WAY. I need to ask YOU a favor, do you mind if I finish another move in the CITY first? IT’ll be very fast, 3 things.”
“Okay, fine. Just NOT too late, I want to work LATER.”
“No, No, No, No, No. This’ll be very fast.”
4:45, Chris and I are chillin watching cartoons.
5:45, Munchapocalypse – His parents visited over the weekend, the frige is stocked!
6:45, Un packing the few things I have.
6:47, a few more things.
7:45, I don’t really think they’re coming and I‘m making some dinner.
8:45, the MOVERS have been telling me for 3 hours now it’s going to be in the next 45 MINUTE.
9PM. TEXT – “I’m out front.”
Alleluia they’ve arrived.
THE trucks at LEAST 10 yards from the CURB.
“Maybe you should PULL CLOSER.”
IT’s a mess. Dropping boxes, huffing up the stairs, I didn’t pay them till they were done.
6 boxes! It took over 40 minutes.
I did not tip them, then the OLDER gentleman is walking out to leave and comes up to me with his hand out.
“TIP.” He actually spoke to me for the first time!
“Um you guys were a half hour late and then took 6 extra hours to deliver my boxes. And you dropped a bunch of THINGS. SEE THAT box that SAYS fragile, you PUT my box of BOOKS on top of it. So, no I am not tipping you.”
It was one of my most REAL NYC moments. EYES locked, like Mick stared down that beast in Crocodile Dundee, yeah I went there.
NEVERTHELESS, I won the battle and he stormed out.
Faintly I still hear “Tip.”