San Antonio, Issue 3

August 21st

It has been twenty-seven days since we were exiled here to Texas. Yesterday is just a blur of subconscious mind tricks. I remember driving Jen to work. We were hungry. Maybe she was uptight; maybe it was me who was high-strung. It doesn't really matter to a police officer. One moment we were not-so-calmly discussing where to eat lunch, the next I was crossing two lanes of traffic and flying into an Arby's driveway. About thirty seconds later I was being asked "what
on earth possessed you to do THAT?".

Perhaps it was my facial expression. Perhaps it was the blank stare I gave as I contemplated the answers to the question:

You see officer, my furniture has been stolen and for the better part of a month now I've been coming home from work to sit on a resin chair while I eat some variation of a frozen dinner and stare at a blank wall before grabbing a clean pair of underwear and a shirt and driving to a hotel around the corner. But that's not really what POSESSED me, that was merely the motivation for slamming my foot down, squishing the gas pedal to the pavement and lurching—no, FLYING—across two lanes of traffic while pretending I cared about such things as turn signals and this ridiculous notion you Texans have plastered all over the highways about "driving friendly" to get into this godforsaken parking lot where I will buy yet another fast food meal that will come back to haunt me later as I sit on my hotel-issued toilet. The POSESSION, as you call it, was the indecisive voice of my lovely fiancée sitting next to me who decided—as I was passing the driveway mind you—that yes, I suppose Arby's would be acceptable for lunch.

Or maybe it was the voice that, before I had a chance to actually say anything that was racing through my head, squeaked out from the seat next to me "it was me."

Instantly the good fellow's demeanor changed, his incredulity turned to understanding and he gave a disapproving but brief explanation of how "dangerous" that particular road is. This of course after the obligatory "you folks are a long way from home" spiel that I'm sure he
was dying to use when he saw my California license plates.

August 22nd Day 28
Just like clockwork, my "move coordinator" phoned me at 2PM Pacific. I've really got her trained now. She confirmed the truck arrived in Austin safely and that my goods would be arriving Wednesday. I thanked her politely over the phone, hung up, then cursed her a few times as I usually do, muttering incoherently about how it was about time and delivery my ass and so forth. Two hours later the Allied agent in Austin where my goods were delivered called. He set up delivery for the following day. It really wasn't convenient for me but I was anxious at any opportunity to spite my "move coordinator" and my future marriage would have been cut severely short if I had, after 28 days of exile, told him "no, I'm sorry, I'm supposed to go bond, drink beer and have pizza with my coworkers tomorrow after work." Oh well, it's just the people I'll be spending 9 hours a day with for the next 12 months. Not important.

August 23rd D-Day
Still skeptical of the claims made the previous evening, I left work at 2:30 to meet the movers that had still not called to confirm delivery between one and three. I doubt anyone is surprised. As luck would have it though, 4:30 rolled around and a truck rolled into the complex. Two hours later I had 1200 square feet of brown boxes, interspersed by a few couches, tables, and beds. After twenty-nine days of exile my goods are finally delivered and, ironically, I still have no decent place to sit.

August 24th The Morning After
Last night was our last in the hotel. I suppose I should say something romantic and wistful about how it was our home away from home and doggonnit we're going to kind of miss that place.

I will not.

I don't think I've ever had a three-page hotel bill before. I am off today and Jen and I begin the daunting task of a) seeking out damaged goods b) unpacking and c) breaking down empty boxes and carrying them down three flights to the trash. Preliminary reports indicate only one casualty—a martini glass in a box that was crushed. I suppose it's our fault though, the only marking on the box was some Italian word, I think they pronounce it FRUH – JEEL – AY.

San Antonio, Issue 2

The saga continues...

August 8th Day Fourteen
Checked everywhere, still no furniture.

August 9th Day Fifteen
Discovered the joys of Happy Hour at the Radisson: $2.50 Budweiser and $2.00 appetizers.

August 10th Day Sixteen
In the initial correspondence I was sent from the movers, I was told to only contact my "personal move coordinator" in Seattle for any communication regarding my move. Today I decided to call the company in Tustin that picked up my goods directly. It's my stuff, I will call whomever I damned well please. I spoke to a woman at Schick Moving & Storage in Tustin—an agent for Allied Van Lines. She confirmed that my goods were now scheduled to load and depart California on August 12th.

August 11th Day Seventeen
It's been nearly a week since I was promised $500 and I thought it might be prudent to make sure the check wasn't lost in the mail. The woman whom I originally spoke to is out of the office until Tuesday, naturally. I called Allied Customer Service and entered their phone tree... "If your move is in progress please press four…" After muttering a few obscenities, I begrudgingly pressed four. When my call was answered, I told the woman I was waiting for a check for $500 that hadn't arrived yet. She asked me what it was for. I told her "you have my stuff and I don't". I guess I was feeling a little hostile at the time. She said, "oh, it's a delayed shipment check, hold please." Yeah, sure. She came back on the phone and told me the check wouldn't go out until Tuesday. Almost a week after I was told they were sending me a check for my "inconvenience", I find out the check won't go out for nearly another week. That's much more convenient. Now even more wound up, I told the poor woman who had the misfortune of taking my call "oh this will be exciting, we'll have a contest to see what gets here first, my furniture or the check".

August 12th Day Eighteen
I've had enough. I called Schick this afternoon to find out about the status of the truck that was supposed to be leaving with my goods today. After putting me on hold for a few moments, the woman came back on the line and asked me if I'd been in contact with my booking agent in Seattle already. This was not a good sign. "They're going to have bad news for me, aren't they?" I asked her. She replied, "I don't know what kind of news they'll have, but you need to give them a call". This was clearly a load of bullshit. The woman has the same access to the "system" that my contact in Seattle has, the fact that she didn't want to tell me what the "system" said was a tactic on her part to not have to deliver bad news to me that she was afraid I would most likely take out on her. I called her on it. "I worked in the moving business for nearly ten years, I know what's going on here" I told her.

I called Seattle. Sure enough, the truck DID NOT load today and was not even close to leaving. It was time to escalate this to the next level. I asked to speak to a supervisor. At this point I thought I had dropped the call. There was literally a full minute of silence before my "move coordinator" told me that she needed to talk to her supervisor and get back to me. I verified the return call would be before close of business today.

Next I got in contact with Boeing Traffic—it was time to bring in some bigger guns. The lady I contacted was appalled at my situation. She lit a few fires under Allied's ass and at 5:15PM Pacific time my "move coordinator" called me back. To make me feel better, she told me I wasn't the only Boeing employee in this type of situation. I'll sure sleep better tonight knowing that they treat ALL their customers like this.

August 13th & 14th Days Nineteen & Twenty
I've spent the weekend trying to calm down from the events of the week. I have been unsuccessful. I'm still madder than greased owl shit coming out of a scalded monkey's ass.

August 15th Day Twenty-One
Still no furniture, but my "move coordinator" now calls me daily at 4PM (2PM Pacific). I think she said something about my goods leaving on a day ending in "y".

August 16th Day Twenty-Two
No furniture, still. The "move coordinator" thinks they have a driver (I've heard that one before). She should know for sure tomorrow. Goody gum drops, I just can't wait.

August 17th Day Twenty-Three
It is now confirmed that someone is supposed to pick up my goods on Friday from Tustin, California. Just to make sure I understood the situation, I stepped through it with my "personal move coordinator".

Schick loaded my stuff from Mission Viejo onto a trailer (one). They took the trailer to their facility and loaded the goods into their warehouse (two). On Friday, they will load the goods into another trailer to be transported over the road to the destination agent in Austin, Texas (three). The destination agent in Austin will unload the goods from the over-the-road trailer and load them into their warehouse (four). One day, the goods will get loaded onto a truck (five) for delivery to my residence in San Antonio where they will unload them into my apartment (six). I asked my "move coordinator" if I had it right. She said yes. I said good, I'm out of fingers on one hand to count how many times my goods will be handled. She said "I just love your sense of humor".

August 18th Day Twenty-Four
My "move coordinator" is really excited that my goods will load tomorrow. I'm glad she has some pleasure in her day.

August 19th Day Twenty-Five
Amen to the 9/80 work schedule. I am off today and enjoyed a morning of leisure. I slept until ten, went out to breakfast, then took my car to the car wash. I know there is balance in the universe because ice now falls from it. At least there was no furniture blocking my path as I ran to the window cursing.

Oh yeah, the truck is allegedly "on the road".

San Antonio, Issue 1

A chronology of our San Antonio experience thus far.

July 26th, 2005 Day One.

All is well so far. Jen and I departed Mission Viejo this morning within thirty minutes of our scheduled departure. The movers packed everything into the truck yesterday so this morning it was just a matter of getting in the car and putting the hammer down. Tears were minimal. This is a good day.

July 27th Day Two

We made it as far as Las Cruces, NM last night—we're about halfway there. Since we're ahead of schedule, and our furniture isn't scheduled to arrive until August 3rd, we've decided to head to Carlsbad Caverns today. It will be a short day compared to yesterday and I am looking forward to seeing one of the sights Chris and I missed on the Year 2000 Road Trip Extravaganza!

July 28th Day Three

We stayed at the Bates Motel last night and lived to tell the tale. When I called enroute to make our reservation, I asked if they had any vacancy for that evening. I found out when we arrived why the girl on the phone chuckled a little when I asked her that question. It's not that it was an old hotel in disrepair, or there weren't any other cars parked out front…actually it's a lot like that. It was actually a Best Western, only 7 miles from the entrance to the Caverns. That distinction earns them $100/night for a motel that should probably be collecting about $30.

July 29th Day Four

We rolled in this evening just after six, too late to get the keys to our apartment, so we had to stay at the Hilton. A welcome upgrade after the Bates (and ironically not that much more expensive).

July 30th Day Five

Home at last. Our apartment is brand new. Although the complex is three years old, this unit has somehow never been lived in, although someone is receiving mail at this address. It's by far the nicest apartment I've ever rented, and in another turn of irony, cheaper than some I've rented as well.

July 31st Day Six

We got tired of sitting on the floor or standing all the time, so we went to Wal-Mart last night and bought some resin patio chairs. Eventually they'll work perfectly out on our balcony, but for now they are our dining room furniture. It got a little boring last night, so I proposed to Jen to spice things up a bit. I hope our furniture comes soon, I wasn't planning on getting married in Texas.

August 1st Day Seven

It's been a week now since we left sunny California for sunny Texas. Today was the first day of work for both me and Jen. So far, so good.

August 2nd Day Eight

According to our contract, the movers should be arriving no later than tomorrow with our furniture. I call them every day to check up on things. The truck is still in California and they don't yet have a driver assigned to it. I figured it wouldn't be here by the 3rd, but hopefully it will arrive by week's end.

August 3rd Day Nine

Work is going well, moving van still in California. The resin chairs were fun for the first couple days, but now our asses are getting sore. We've regressed back to the floor most of the time except for eating. It might also be time to invest in a new air mattress. The one I brought has always worked fine for me in the past, but I've never used it for five consecutive nights.

August 4th Day Ten

I lost my sunglasses today. Actually, I think it would be more accurate to say they were stolen, but I can't prove anything. Yes, they were expensive. My only consolation is that the site I work for is on a 9/80 work schedule, so we get every other Friday off. I picked the perfect week to start because tomorrow is a 9/80 Friday off! I was hoping I would be able to unpack my new 37" LCD High Definition television, but that is not likely. I'll check in with the movers in the morning and then we're off to Austin for the day. We did buy a new air mattress—an Aero bed—and it's much firmer than the old one, so we should sleep well tonight!

August 5th Day Eleven

I hate this Godforsaken place. Allied has assigned a driver to my shipment finally. He is scheduled to leave California on the twelfth—SEVEN DAYS FROM NOW. By their estimates, he won't be here until the seventeenth. I mention at this juncture the movers name ALLIED because I wish to soil the shit out of it. Those bastards have my TV and, for all I know, it's because of them that I lost my sunglasses yesterday.

August 6th Day Twelve

I've had just about enough of this pseudo-camping bullshit. Allied is sending us $500 for our trouble. It will cover most of the stuff we've had to buy to survive in this empty godforsaken apartment, including the new Aero bed, which I'd like to shove up their tractor-trailers.

August 7th Day Thirteen

We checked into the Radisson. I'll get back to y'all when my furniture arrives.