I thought that hiring movers would be really nice. It seemed like for the extra cost I could save myself the back breaking work of loading and unloading a truck (in Gingerbread Man walk-in oven heat, no less), plus I wouldn’t have to deal with driving the truck/returning the truck in New York. The last time I moved to New York there was lots of driving of the truck and returning of the truck and it was a really miserable experience. For one, there’s never anywhere to park a big truck. For two, when you are unloading the truck you have to have at least one extra person just to stand guard at the truck so that the AIDS bums don’t steal your shit. Sure, I figured, who wouldn’t pay a couple hundred extra bucks to escape that suffering.
Well, movers are Jews. My mover, for instance, fought in the Israeli Army for 14 years. He told me this while he balanced my 27″ TV on his knee and juggled a stove, a washing machine, and a 400 pound man. Jesus Christ. But you might not get a Jew like that if you decide to hire movers. Your Jew might just be the regular kind, you know, the kind that FUCKS you with a million little incidentals. I’m not exactly sure what it means for there to be 80 feet from the truck to your living room, but I know how much it costs: 200 bucks or something. And every time they have to look at one of your possessions that is not already boxed it costs you fifteen dollars. Then there is the non-refundable saran wrap fee, which is when they wrap some of your shit in saran wrap. That’s about seven hundred dollars.
To top it all off, you get to watch some strangers, one of whom was in the Israeli Army for 14 years, drive away with all of your shit with a vague promise to give it back to you someday. WHAT A LUXURY!
Anyway, this is what my face looked like all morning: