You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Miscreant Movers.
They are burglars you pay to steal from you.
They pack up your personal possessions, and drive away with a wave and a smile.
Most of us worry something might get broken? Did we purchase enough insurance? Should we have put grandma’s china set in a different box?
But one woman I met has concerns much deeper than these.
Look around your living space. What do you see?
A couch? A TV? Pots and Pans. Your curios? Your grannies quilt?
Now imagine it all gone.
Poof.
“Hey moving company guy, ah, I’m here in my new living space. It’s cold and empty. I sure could use my bed and my house coat. When are you going to arrive?”
What if they never tell you. What if they tell you Thursday and Thursday comes and they don’t.
What if you call them every day and every day they tell you something different.
“The driver over slept.”
“The dog ate my homework”
“Soylent Green is People”
What if they cashed your check months ago and now you are the bad end of a terrible joke.
That’s the reality for a Tennessee woman.
She moved from Florida. She hired a moving company. She signed the waivers. She paid the extra insurance. She wrote them a check for $1,200. She waived goodbye to her stuff. And her stuff waived goodbye to her.
Somewhere in the exhaust smoke and roar of moving truck driving away, she thought she heard the snicker of a burglar counting his money.
I will meet with the woman 71 days later.
71 days without clothes. 71 days without pots and pans. 71 days without shoes without a bed without peace of mind.
She admits she didn’t do her homework. She admits she shopped based on price more than anything else. It’s human nature, right?
She has learned a tough lesson.
Next time she’ll check with the BBB and Angie’s List and call for references.
Those calls will be a lot easier to make than the ones she has been making. she has called 3 sheriff’s departments. One where she lives, one where she lived and one where the moving company operates.
She has called the Dept of Transportation and legal aid and any number of agencies.
71 days.
No underwear. No pillows. No picture frames.
Can you even imagine.
No shoe. No socks. No dishes.
What’s it like to be without everything you own for 71 days, I ask.
She pauses.
“I couldn’t even make something as simple as Spaghetti. Without hot plates and oven mitts and a strainer. I used a towel and tried to pour it out and it all went down the garbage disposal.”
It’s so absurd I laugh.
It’s horrible.
I ask her to call the moving company while I’m with her.
She is so nice, so matter of fact.
“Hi Crystal. This is Cindy. Just calling to see what the ETA is?”
She puts her phone on speaker. I listen to the dispatching gobbledeygook. I hear about someone being on vacation and someone is suppose to text the driver and someone is suppose to get a bologna sandwich from the King of France.
Such B.S.
“I don’t even get excited when they tell me they are coming,” she says, sadness dripping in her voice. “I know they are liars. They stole all my stuff and I paid them $1,200 to do it.”
I post her story on Face Book.
It apparently touches a raw nerve. It has over 1,00o hits and dozens of comments.
Within hours, 2 Nashville attorneys contact me wanting to help the woman for free.
That’s awesome.
I want the moving company to get a taste of justice.
This woman tells me that she cleaned houses for 20 years before she moved.
“People use to trust me so much they would leave me their keys to their homes.”
Maybe I can help restore her faith in humanity.
I know people want to help.
This moving company needs a free ride to the local jail house.
Maybe we can help arrange that for them.
Stay tuned.
Life’s crazy™