Mom’s moving day came at last. Johnny from the moving company arrived at about 8:30am, but he wasn’t able to recruit any more help, so I agreed to help load for $15/hr. It’s bullshit that, after all the money Mom paid, the company didn’t provide more movers except one 50-year old man.
When I lived in Oak Harbor, WA after the Navy, I occasionally loaded moving trucks for some cash. I wasn’t very good at it, thanks to my ADD; I was too slow and not very organized. I remember being on one job for 11 hours, and the guy who hired me was very frustrated. I’ve always felt a little ashamed about what a poor worker I was then, and I saw this as a chance to kind of make up for it.
I did so with a vengeance.
I pitched in and kicked ass, and we were done in 3.5 hours, which didn’t count the 2 hours of pre-staging I’d done the night before. I flew up and down stairs, bounced in and out of the truck, and ran the dolly stacked four boxes high. It’s a testament to all the working out I’ve been doing that, although I got tired, I never wore out, and barely slowed by the end.
I gave Johnny my wages as a tip, since he really cut Mom some slack on weight and volume, and gave her more than a few boxes he should have charged her for. He was a fascinating character, from deep south Mississippi, with some great stories. Mom and I both took a liking to him.
After a couple hours of cleaning up, loading the car, and hauling out the trash, we declared the job finished, and left. By then it was 6pm, but we just wanted out of there, and didn’t want to drive all the way back to my house for the night.
After a mediocre meal at Cracker Barrel, we hit the highway, but only made it as far as Dayton before calling it a night.