The Movers From H***
We moved a few months ago. We didn’t move because we had to. We didn’t move because we didn’t love our last home. We moved because The Universe guided us to do so—and the entire process of buying and selling (usually slated as a nightmare) was a breeze.
In fact, our real estate agent (who is also my dear friend from Brown) toasted us at Thanksgiving dinner in our new home, saying, “I have no idea how you pulled this off and I’ve never experienced a buy/sell that went so smoothly.” : )
Then came the move.
I know, I know…two words—Gentle Giant.
Super-mom really did know better and should’ve just called the Giant; however, that double the price thing got to me in a vulnerable moment after looking at the closing costs (LOL), and I went with a smaller “nice family” mover.
There are quotations around “nice” and “family” for a reason, Sister.
Now I don’t like to trash talk, gossip, or spread the bad word; however, I’m gonna name names here because, well, this story is beyond belief and I don’t want any of my fellow Sisters or Brothers to endure the same treatment.
Sit down for this one…
The movers arrived the day before Thanksgiving to pack their trucks with our stuff, and they seemed great.
The problems began when we arrived at our new home—one mile away.
First, one of the movers was quite intentionally putting stuff down about four to five feet away from where I was asking him to place it. For example, I’d say, “Can you please put that (heavy as Hell) armoire right here against the wall, centered on the wall?” and he’d plunk it down five feet from the wall in the middle of the room and not centered in any way, shape, or form.
After this happened a few times I found Philippe and explained what was going down and said “I just want to make sure that they’re gonna make it right—put stuff where we really want it—before they take off. I don’t want you to have to move all of this stuff later on.” (Remember that Super-mom is pregnant with twins and ain’t gonna be movin’ a thang).
So Philippe calmly and kindly explained the situation to this particular mover.
The mover went ballistic and yelled at Philippe and me.
I have no idea what he was talking about but it wasn’t even vaguely similar to what Philippe had brought up.
I then watched Philippe yell back—the third time I’ve ever seen him yell in my life.
So Super-mom stepped in the middle and calmed them both down.
Or so I thought.
Five minutes later the “manager” of the job said to me “I don’t know what just happened, but…”
I interrupted and said, “No worries, it’s OK. We’re yogis. We believe in forgiveness, and beginning again. We’ll just begin again.”
Then he finished his sentence: “but he just walked off the job. Now we’re one man short.”
“Good!” I exclaimed happily. “He had bad energy anyhow.” : )
An hour later the same “manager” seemed to take on the previous mover’s bad energy. He outright refused to move something to the third floor (“I won’t move it up there”) and then said another piece of furniture “wouldn’t fit up the stairs.” (The next day Philippe and our friend Henry moved it up there with ease in 2 minutes).
He then attempted to bring an armoire up to the third floor and proclaimed that it too “wouldn’t fit”…and so I rolled with it and said “OK, then, let’s put it in the dining room instead!” to which he responded, “I’m not moving it again,” and left it where it was.
He flat out refused.
Huge LOL NOW that is, but not so much at the time.
At that point, I had missed my afternoon nap (when pregnant with twins that nap is important Sister!) and was getting a bit weary.
I’d been chasing the movers around all day as they ran in with stuff—asking them kindly to please put it here or there, only to be met with the most arrogant and resistant responses ever.
So I sat down on the couch for the first time that day, and a few minutes later, the manager announced to me that they were “done.”
Philippe walked in and I shared the exciting news.
He paid them (and tipped them very well), and they were off.
Five minutes later, Philippe ran down the stairs and said with disbelief: “They left without putting our beds, desks, and bureaus back together!”
I immediately called CASEY MOVERS, spoke with the assistant who answered the phone, and explained what went down.
She said how very sorry she was and that she’d call them and have them return immediately to finish the job—it must certainly have been an oversight, she explained.
Ten minutes later she called back and said that the movers weren’t picking up their cell phones.
Oversight my ***. ;)
And oh girl, it gets worse.
Once we had accepted that we’d have to put all the furniture back together ourselves (even though they had signed a contract—their contract–saying specifically that they’d put it all back together before they left), we realized that THEY HAD LEFT WITH ALL OF OUR HARDWARE.
Yes, no hardware.
So no beds, desks, or bureaus.
For FIVE DAYS AND NIGHTS (this was 5pm the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.).
I left a few messages on CASEY MOVERS’ voicemail in the coming days as I unpacked box after box that said, and I quote: “Casey Movers. Great prices and great service. Call me on it! Steve Casey.”
I called him on it all right. : )
By Monday Morning we’d kind of grown fond of sleeping on the floor next to the Christmas tree all together as a family, and I’d softened a bit in my response to the whole situation.
I was prepared to forgive Steve Casey and Casey Movers, provided Steve showed up and put the furniture back together, as he was contractually obliged to do, and refunded half of our money.
But he never showed up.
In fact, he never called us back.
It was so beyond our understanding that a person could treat people with such a lack of integrity and respect that we decided to stop talking about it and just dispute the charge on our VISA, pay nothing, and call it a day.
After all, what we focus on—wanted or unwanted—is what we’re creating.
I did, by the way, ask my Spirit and The Universe “What’s the lesson here? What do I need to learn? What do I need to do differently?” during and after this moving debacle.
What came to me is that I actually got exactly what I asked for.
Remember I said that I’d had that “moment” after seeing the closing costs on our home–when I had decided to go with Casey Movers and not Gentle Giant (read: was operating from a scarcity and not abundance mentality)?
Well, I manifested a FREE move.
Not the kind of manifesting I’d recommend, though. : )