A Moving Experience
The
U-Haul Company used to emblazon "Adventures in Moving" on the
side of their vans, from the little trailers to the big mamas.
Now they simply say, "Move Yourself and Save."
You
can't sell adventures: you have to live them. Saving money was
the only selling point. The adventures in moving in the early
days of you-drive-it trucks turned into horror stories which --
unlike the endings of fairy tales saying "they lived happily ever
after," -- ended with "at least it didn't cost us an arm and a
leg."
I've
moved both ways. We've had major moving companies come in and
wrap everything. In those instances, I later unwrapped ashtrays
with butts still in them, garbage pails with moving-day egg shells
and orange peels clinging to the liner.
Professional
moving companies wrap and pack brooms, mops, buckets, sponges
and even half cans of Janitor in a Drum. They'd go off with a
wave leaving me to face a final swipe of the empty house. I knew
the new owners should expect to find it at least broom clean --
but I had no broom.
The
windows had been washed to a squeaky shine, but that was before
the children pressed their noses against the glass, watching the
movers in a ballet of heft and carry, tie and tote.
My
mother always bent over and backed her way out of an apartment,
dustpan and brush in hand, leaving nothing behind, not even her
footsteps. I was leaving my old place behind but not before a
fast trip to Walmart for sponges and Mr. Clean. Oh, well, it was
the only work I had to do when the professional movers were on
the job.
Spotting
a Ryder truck last week, I remembered an adventure with them and
laughed at their slogan, "We're there when you need us." I thought
back to President Clinton's asking his interrogator to define
"is." Because, he suggested, it depends upon what your definition
of "is" is. With Ryder, I wonder what their meaning of "there"
is.
To
me, "there" would be in my driveway, back doors open, ramp down
and at the ready. That's not Ryder's meaning. Ryder is "there"
in their little office off to the side of some service station
on the other side of town. It is "there" if you have a truck reserved
and you arrive well before 5:00 p.m.
They
are "there" if you have a credit card. They tie up the account
with projected charges but they don't tell you that. You intend
to pay by cash at the other end, using the card merely for identification.
So,
with a friend driving you to the lot, you do the paper work and,
satisfy yourself that all is in order and send the friend off
with thanks. You're all alone. The truck is very big. The truck
has a stick shift.
"Lady,
you didn't say you needed automatic," the attendant says. He's
right ... I assumed. I listen to my options. "I don't expect one
until morning. It's a 17-foot, not the 14-foot like ya wanted,
but I'll reserve it for you if you'll take it." I nodded, holding
back tears and holding onto my sanity.
My
friend would get home to a message: "It's 5:40 now; please come
back and get me. Don't ask!"
You
can drive halfway out of the state, as I did, before stopping
for a leisurely meal at a nice restaurant. Like me, your credit
card may be maxed out because Ryder tied up the account fearing
you'll skip. Do I look like someone who's waited her whole life
to own a big yellow truck? Is Ryder there when you need them?
I don't think so.
As
with most things, moving has a right way and a wrong way. Done
the right way means for three years I've had 17 cartons of books
neatly labeled and placed in a closet in a room where I'll one
day build bookcases. But not today. And the professional moving
company reimbursed me handsomely to replace my grandmother's crystal,
which they broke. But it can't be replaced.
What's
wrong with the wrong way? My daughter moved out of a two-bedroom
apartment in three hours with time left over to leave it spiffy.
She put everything breakable in towels and sheets and filled a
plastic bag. She put every knick-knack, book, pot, pan, and utensil
in other plastic bags. No wrapping or tissue. These were placed
on the chairs, couch and tables in the truck she rented. She made
instant judgments on what would go the the Dumpster.
After
putting all her clothes (a lot) in laundry baskets, hangers included,
she hooked up the trailer carrying her car and drove off, dishes
and glassware tinkling as she rumbled along the 900 miles taking
her back to her home in Indiana.
Her
new apartment was set up in three hours, looking very much like
the old one.
"How
do you do it?" I asked. It's such a big job for me."
"Mom,
it's easy," she said. "Here's what you do. You get a keg of beer
and tell some friends you need help moving. They'll drop everything.
They're there for you," she went on. "All you have to do is ask."
Hmmm.
The wrong way looks like the right way in this light. At least
you can see who's really "there" when you need them.
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