Alex (yakshaver) wrote,
Alex
yakshaver

It's always something...

Sunday was supposed to be move-in day at my new apartment. Planned weeks in advance: I arranged with Fritz and Antoine (two hard-working Haitian guys I found via Craigslist a couple of years ago, and have employed for all my heavy-lifting since then) to meet me at the Penske lot when they opened at 8:00; booked a truck; told the owner of the warehouse I've been renting storage in that I planned to move out Sept. 15.

Met the guys at the Penske lot with one minor snafu (I'd written down River St, not Riverside Ave --- and Medford has one of each); living in the future made that one trivial to recover from. The truck's ready and waiting; the guy behind the counter is totally cool with me paying but Fritz driving, and I take off for Cambridge (carefully choosing a route with no low bridges), with the guys following me in the truck. We get to my storage; I go in the front entrance while they pull up to the loading dock. I head for the loading dock to open the overhead door. And run into Fritz in the hall.

"Loading dock door's open?" I ask.

"Sort of...."

The overhead door at the loading dock was stuck, open by about 3 feet. There was a hand-written sign saying the motor was burned out, and to operate it by hand. The three of us, probably collectively > 300 kg, couldn't make it budge. It being Sunday, I try both the landlord's phone numbers. Both go to voicemail.

This is where the worse angels of my nature* want to kick me for trying to live by the golden rule. When I was making my living doing whatever crap casual work I could pick up, I got screwed plenty of times by showing up for a promised job only to be told there was no work for me that day. Sometimes with an explanation, other times not. Accompanied rarely --- very rarely --- with a half-day's pay for having held up my end of the deal. So when I ran my initial Craigslist ad I said "$25/hr, cash; four-hour minimum." This, along with my other work rules (15-minute break on the clock for every four-hours; lunch (off the clock, but I pay) if we go over 4 hours total) always seems to be a bit of a source of wonder to them. Which just makes me emphasize it the more. (I'd like to believe that's just a matter of my living up to a promise I first made myself when I was 10, while doing laps of the school field as punishment for something I in fact hadn't done: I swear, when I'm a grown-up, I'll be fair to kids. So now, when I have the power in a relationship, I'm scrupulous in how I exercise it. But I'm not strictly sure I'd be as scrupulous with a couple of white guys: my white liberal guilt may be turning the knob up to eleven. At any rate, the first thing I did on parsing the situation was to say "Well, I've always told you guys 'four hour minimum,' so I'm paying each of you $100 no matter what." So we gathered up a few small items that I'd packed away as the first things to grab when moving day came and passed them under the door, then went to the apartment, where they brought in the couch I bought Saturday but left on the front porch overnight when it turned out not to fit through the front door. And from there, returned the truck to Penske, barely two hours after we left.

Good NewsBad News
I'm now staying in my new apartment!I'm sleeping on the couch.
I have a couch to sleep on!It is, however, uncomfortably
low for sitting.
Friday, I found a 2560x1440 monitor
from a decent vendor for ~$350!
Sunday, I spent $350 on failing to move.

So, overall, it could be worse.


* If the image you're having here is of an old Warner Bros. cartoon character with an angel on each shoulder --- one good, the other bad, each speaking into the character's ear --- well, if that's the image you were already having, this footnote was unnecessary. :^)
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 2 comments