Salty Stories

Moving Still Sucks Balls

On day 2 of what was supposed to be a one day move, I was wide awake at 3 in the morning on a mattress covered in plastic, with a blanket and a couch pillow, sweating my life away and I opened the Notes app in my phone and typed “Moving Still Sucks Balls,” a blog title to return to at a later date when my life was not in shambles and this move from hell was over. 

Well, squad, THAT DAY HAS ARRIVED! (I recounted the entire tale to my therapist last night and she told me that I’ve spun this into a very entertaining story and she felt like she was there with me. BINGO BANGO that’s all I need to blog this out.) BUCKLE YO SEATBELTS. The bitter and salty feelings are still brewing at the surface a week later but I can spoil the ending before I start from the top: I did indeed finally make it to New Jersey. For those of you who have been living under a rock, my 30th birthday gift this year came in the form of a full-time job offer in the dirrty Jerze. The job allowed me to stay remote for most of the summer and I set my sights on an August move, finding an apartment (in the midst of a mass NYC exodus to the Jersey Shore, #blessed) in late June. It was immediately after I signed my lease that I started looking into moving companies. As you may also know all too well, I’ve moved about 9 zillion times. As someone who has moved more times than most of you will in a lifetime, I can without a doubt inform you that it blows. It’s stressful and a ton of work and there’s only so many times you can guilt friends and family into being your free labor—especially when you’ve exceeded the appropriate amount of moves, of which I most certainly have. So this time around I decided to hire movers to make the transition smoother and also not have to listen to my dad bitch about loading my bike into a rented U-Haul for the fifth time in two years. You know how people say money can’t buy you happiness? If I had unlimited amounts of money and could’ve paid someone else to move my shit each of those dreadful times so dear old dad and I didn’t scream at each other over inanimate objects or a rented truck mishap, I’d be happy AF. But alas, my funds are limited and therefore I spent several weeks seeking out quotes to find the right moving company with the right price. (*important note: Despite having movers this time around I did still scream at my dad. But in my defense, he told me to relax. How a man who raised three girls still doesn’t understand that under no circumstances do you ever tell a female who is not at all relaxed to “just relax” is beyond me. Praying that screeching at the top of my lungs DO NOT EVER TELL ME TO RELAX finally hammered this lesson home for him.)

After getting ghosted by essentially every local company I reached out to, it was time to look at national companies and I was not pleased about this. Relying on someone in a different part of the country to handle my move? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I stumbled upon a few names that essentially operated like sales call centers. Hard selling and pressure to make decisions on the spot when it comes to thousands of dollars are NOT my specialty. We’ll soon learn none of the skills I needed for this move were my specialty. Apparently snarky one liners and pop culture references will get you no where in moving land. My second call of national companies was to BLANK company. In the interest of my lawyer I should keep their name undisclosed at this time. We’ll just call them Dark Circle Moving. Dark Circle took a full list of my inventory—we’re talking a one bedroom apt here, folks, my biggest pieces were my couch, bed & dressers. The rest we could’ve wrangled into a few RAVs and a pickup if we needed to (as we’ve done before.) The quote they gave me was higher than I was looking to spend so I said thank you and intended to keep calling until I had collected enough quotes to make an informed decision. Dark Circle didn’t love that idea. They were not about to let me hang up without making a sale. They brought in the “manager” to close the deal and by close the deal I mean tell me a bunch of lies about how this company is not a broker and they’ll do the move themselves while also telling me an uncomfy amount of times that with his “special touch” he could bring the estimate down to what I was looking for. I don’t want to know what he was touching but my dad was standing right there listening and told me to just close the deal and be done with it. (He’ll deny this, but it’s the truth.) So I said fine and right then I was told to pay a deposit and sign a contract on the phone, allowing them to get me to sign whatever garbage they were peddling without reading it. IT WORKED! I signed a contract that said, “We can literally do whatever we want so ya done fucked yourself, boo”…in so many words, of course. I didn’t have a yummy feeling in my tummy about this.

A week out from my move, I still had an estimated price and an estimated move date between August 9th-August 10th. The Friday before I got a call from a quality assurances manager to update my inventory (read: increase my estimate per crumb that I added to my inventory) and tell me I’d need certified funds. Certified to who? Your guess was as good as mine. When I asked what day I’m actually moving he replied, “Oh I don’t know, I don’t handle that.” If I were to hear from someone that weekend, I’d probably be moving Monday, if I didn’t hear anything, I’d probably be moving Tuesday. Obviously the schedule was super reliable. So I just had to be ready to move my life to a different state for two straight days. I called customer service from the bank parking lot to see who I should make the certified check out to and she told me a completely different name…let’s just call them Eagle Movers. SO EITHER YOU GUYS ARE RUNNING AN ILLEGAL BUSINESS FRONT WITH A DIFFERENT NAME OR Y’ALL ARE CONTRACTING OUT MY MOVE TO A DIFFERENT COMPANY WHICH YOU SAID YOU WOULD NOT DO. Either way, NO. When I inquired what would happen if the moving company showed up and changed the estimate that I owed and got certified checks for, she replied “I’m not sure, maybe have them wait while you go back to the bank and change the amount.” Ironclad plan, dum dum. I got cash out instead. It honestly felt like a bank heist to have this much cash in my possession at one time. Clearly I’ve never dealt drugs.

On Monday I called for an update as to what time I could expect a truck to roll through. Customer service told me they couldn’t get in contact with the driver and they still weren’t 100% sure what day he was coming. AGAIN, not knowing if you’re staying another night or WHEN YOU ARE MOVING four hours away is PROBLEMATIC at best. I expressed my frustrations but as many of you know, I poop myself at any sort of confrontation. I get nervous and shaky voice and think of everything I should’ve said immediately afterward. Also this customer service bid couldn’t have cared less. In fact, SHE sassed ME. She told me she hasn’t called me back (I called 3 times on Monday throughout the day) because she didn’t have an update. OH GREAT. LET ME JUST SIT WITH MY LIFE IN BOXES AND MY THUMB UP MY ASS AND YOU LET ME KNOW WHEN YOUR TRUCK DRIVER IS GOOD AND READY TO MOVE ME. I said, “So a truck can just show up with no notice?” And she said, “Yeah.” Cool, cool, cool, cool. At 6PM she called me to tell me the driver would be there between 8 and 12 the next day.

GuEsS wHo DiDn’T ShOoooooOOOwwwWww?! I called at 12 on the dot and said where’s my truck? At this point customer service dumzilla already knew it was me, we needn’t waste time with formalities. She told me she couldn’t get a hold of anyone. Rinse & Repeat. Day two of this garbage. At this point I was now sniffing into other local moving companies begging them to take mercy on me and move me at short notice so I could tell Dark Circle to kick rocks. As you might have assumed, all the local moving companies laughed directly in my facehole. I had to wave my white flag. I wanted to be a grown ass bitch who handles her problems but my phone call confrontation stage fright was getting the best of me and it was time to call in reinforcements. I had my parents (waiting for me and the movers in New Jersey) pull a Mean Girls 3-way bullying call to rip customer service a new b*hole while I silently cheered them on from NY. The word scam was used gratuitously. They said they’d let us know within the hour where the driver was. They called back and said the truck got held up and would be there in 2 hours. I’m not a psychic, but I had a pretty universal calling that they were 100% blowing smoke up my ass. That was confirmed when I got a call and a text that read “hi call me back I am driver.” I call this jabroni back and he tells me he’s never even heard of my move and they just called him for the first time five minutes ago. He’s sitting on his couch, in New Jersey. He tells me he can maybe get there by 10PM. UHHHH? That’s past my bedtime, strange man. I hand off his number to my dad to deal with this hot mess. At this point I don’t think it could get any worse. Sure, zip on over here and move me out at midnight. While you’re at it, just take a load off on my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch and we’ll all set off in the morning together. WHAT.

The plan made by “driver” and my dad was for him to come at 8am the following morning and get this shit over with in one trip. I had now turned in my internet and started to head down to New Jersey with a car bursting with shit, including a mattress for me to sleep on in my new apt that night. I had already given up on this circus and was ready to at least empty my car. On the first 20 mins of my drive I received two other calls from different drivers both saying they were on their way to my apt tonight and could move me out after 8 o’clock. Sure, bruhs. Why don’t you all show up and move me out. The more the merrier. Another 3-way call took place in the Spectrum parking lot this time with a different customer service rep who conducted the first 10 minutes of the call thinking I was Angela. TIP TOP SERVICE. I told this gentleman that he was running an absolute shitshow. He didn’t particularly appreciate that. He got us nowhere and then hung up on us. We confirmed the 8AM time with “driver” and cut Dark Circle out of the communication since they proved to be useless idiot middlemen who can’t even get in contact with whatever shitty third rate moving company they contracted to. I turned around to head back to my packed up apartment and unload all of my cold foods packed into coolers back into the fridge. I gobbled two plain cheeseburgers and a medium fry, went to a friend’s house to shower for the first time in 24 hours and steal some wifi for a hot second (having TV’s packed and no wifi is basically the equivalent of living in Alcatraz), then came back to crash for the night. Started out on the couch, woke up covered in sweat at 1:30 AM with my feet hanging off POSITIVE that it was morning. It was not. So I pushed my plastic-wrapped mattress back onto the frame and stuck my boiling hot skin to it for a cozy night of slumber. Let it be known that when it rains, it POURS for ya girl. This exact week happened to be the perfect storm of the return of hotter than Satan’s butthole humidity (after crisp fall temps the week before) AND the shedding of my uterine walls. THREE CHEERS FOR RADIATING HEAT FROM MY BODY AND MY UNDERCARRIAGE. You know what’s fun about disposing of your period accouterments into a McDonald’s bag because you already took out the trash because you already thought you were moving? NOTHING.

“Driver” shows up at 9am. Within 30 seconds of him entering my apt he tells me that there’s no chance I was quoted the right amount with “all that I have.” WHO CALLED IT?! I DID, I DID, I DID! I would relish in being right but I cannot relish in anything that empties my savings account. Because of COURSE the moving company that shows up two days late is demanding more money from me to actually do the job. AS IT TURNS OUT, in the big ole scammy scam of movers, Dark Circle had me list my inventory in full and then said yeh we don’t care and quoted me for a truck space that wouldn’t even fit my couch. They knew I would never pay the estimate amount and I’m gonna go ahead and guess they didn’t care because they got my deposit and handed me off to scammers #2 Eagle Movers who would pocket whatever price they named from me on that day. My apartment in New Jersey has a flight of stairs (which Dark Circle was fully aware of) and yet I was charged an additional $150. For STAIRS. Bend me RIGHT over. I had to go to the bank and get out an additional $1300 and then I panicked because math is NOT a strong suit for me that I wouldn’t have enough still and stopped at a second ATM to get another $200 out. The fact that Bank of America didn’t send me a text that said, “u ok?” is still baffling to me.

When I finally returned with my disgusting amount of cash for a service that was 0% worth it, I was then forced to count out half in front of a driver who was staring at me. At this point I was full-on sobbing, which really didn’t do great things for my image as just thirty minutes earlier this same driver told me he’d rather deal with my dad “man to man.” You know, because women are trash. This particular woman (ME) is not a money person. When I was a Wegmans cashier and people asked for cash back, I almost ALWAYS added the amount wrong to the total and then had to count it three times before giving it to them. Handling cash makes me frazzled as hell. I don’t think I’ve ever once counted out exact change because the pressure of someone staring at me while I add in my dumb brain is enough to make me never use currency again. CC 4 LYFE. And now that my Discover taps? Woo baby, I will never pay any other way. TAP TAP, HONAY. Anyway, back to me snotting all over $1600 to a misogynistic a*hole. It was not a good scene. He had 0% sympathy as he grubbed all my money away from me. And to add icing on top of this very shit-filled cake, the minute I stepped out of my car into my new apartment that I’ve never seen before after a 3.5 hour drive and a bursting bladder full of iced coffee, this driver says to me “I need my balance.” OH ABSOLUTELY, GOOD SIR. God forbid I use the bathroom and look at my new home that I just shelled out $7K in a day to move into when I should be coating your palm with piles of cold hard cash instead. How could I forget?! It must be because I’m a girl with a tiny brain. Hey, while we’re at it, did you want me to also write out a quick check to send your kids to college as well? Everything’s on me today, no worries at all. You take whatever you need.

Welcome to New Jersey, indeed. Hope this crash landing arrival isn’t a foreshadowing into my new life as The Jersey Ju. Stay tuned as I surely use more hard lessons learned as entertainment for my blog!

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