This week has been hell. Monday was moving day. I picked up the keys for my new place, went in to clean a bit and re-familiarise myself, and got back to my old place ready for the movers.
I hate moving because you have to pack everything and then organise the logistics. I take comfort in stability and moving house always feels like a reset, especially as a renter. More than ever now, it feels like house surfing and I hate it so I was already feeling apprehensive. Little did I know that it was about to get a whole lot worse.
The movers from AnyVan arrived on time and started work. Things were moving… slowly. One guy was doing all the work while the main guy was stood by the van watching and “coordinating” (he even asked me if I’d be helping which was an interesting question to ask given how much I’d paid for the service and how he seemingly wasn’t picking up boxes himself). Eventually, he decided to join in and but started asking what was going multiple times. When he went upstairs, he did it again and then the bombshell. Because I hadn’t put everything on the list of items to move (I hadn’t; that was on me), I’d have to pay extra for it to be moved. I was furious because the extra things weren’t a lot space-wise and when I signed up, it explicitly asked me if I’d be okay with multiple trips to get everything.
I got a bit angry and muttered something on my way downstairs to which he started having a go at me asking me why I was “moaning”. That angered me more and I told him I wasn’t talking directly to him, I could say what I liked in my own house, and for him to complete the work he was there to do. But that wasn’t all. They tried to move my sofa bed and seemingly struggled only to then tell me because I put down that it was a sofa and not a sofabed that they wouldn’t take it. AnyVan called me to confirm this. I argued that the bed part didn’t matter given that the sofa was the same size regardless. That didn’t matter and also apparently it was too heavy or something? Yes, a sofa bed was too heavy for two “professional” movers. My anger was reaching new heights and it spilt over on the phone when I asked to make a complaint and was told I couldn’t until the job was done.
I called my mum to let off steam, she came round and tried to talk to them. They refused. Another call from AnyVan—they might not be able to complete the job as they were running over their allotted time. But surely that was on them, I said, as they were stalling and going at a snail’s pace? Again, I was shrugged off. It seemed that everything about their work was my responsibility. Eventually, they filled up the van with all the listed items and then drove to my new place to slowly place things in rooms. And yes, you guessed it, more trouble.
When it came time to bring up mine and my son’s beds, they wouldn’t fit through the staircase. Their incompetence was already on full show when they couldn’t get the table through the front door and my mum had to tell them to just bring it in the right way up but the beds genuinely wouldn’t fit. Fuck. They had to leave them in the dining room and then just left everything else in there and left. At that point, I wanted stuff in and for them to leave and didn’t have anything left in me to argue even more. Genuinely the most appalling customer service I’ve ever received and even though I’ve written everything here, AnyVan will be receiving it both as a proper complaint and in negative feedback.
❧ ❧ ❧
Luckily, my mum and sister helped me move some more of my boxes and bags from the old house. We had fish and chips in the living room and when they left, I walked around like I was in the Backrooms movie. Boxes and furniture piled and arranged in peculiar orientations. I was mentally and physically bereft but I powered through.
Fast-forward to this evening and my son came to stay for his first night at the new house. The bed situation is a work in progress. New beds are coming on Monday but for now, he chose to sleep in the dining room where the bed frame was (the mattress was upstairs in his room). I brought the mattress down, dressed it up, put it on the frame and then realised he didn’t have his TV set up. I rearranged everything, got a table down, my work monitor which he’d been using in his old room with a Google Chromecast plugged in, and got it up and running. Damn, where was the remote? No problem, I set up my phone to work with Google Home as the remote. Out of chaos, a semblance of order. Resourcefulness.
I wasn’t sure if/when I was going to write this. I’ve hated how this has all come about. I never wanted to move but the owner of my old house wanted to sell. That was the reason why I had to move from the flat before that. 7 years at the flat, 2 years at the house. 3 houses in 2 years and no chance of buying my own without a hefty deposit I could never save for. I don’t like feeling like I’m skating on thin ice.
But this week, despite moments when I lost my temper, shouted at people, swore in front of my mum and sister for maybe the first time ever, I didn’t completely fall apart. No panic attacks. I dug deeper than I ever had and kept things going. I needed help but I kept things going. It’s all I could do because I was so fed up of people letting me down. It reminded me why I was so independent and I hated that these events had validated that decision.
My social anxiety is at an all-time high. I should probably seek some help with that as a symptom of whatever else I have going on. Maybe try and get that autism diagnosis ball rolling too. I’m not doing okay and this is the last thing I needed. But I wanted to take a moment to appreciate that I came through for myself and my son in small moments. I McGyvered that shit and I’m proud of myself for that. I’m not at the finish line yet as there’s still plenty to do but for now, I have those moments.
Buy me a coffee or a pledge!
