4.28.2006

where crooklyn at?

Intrepid readers of RSGo know that I just moved to Brooklyn. "How are you going to move?" asked my mom. I told her we were going to get movers - cheap ones - from craigslist. "You're going to get taken for a ride," she said.

"Don't you have a friend whose dad can help you out?" asked my dad, who doesn't seem to understand that in Mannhattan, there are no dads to be found of the type to help their kids' friends move from a third-floor walkup into a third-floor walkup. All the dads in Manhattan are busy listening to ipods and bringing their cutely-attired toddler children to the Museum of Natural History.

So we got our cheap movers from craiglist. "Fifty five dollars an hour," said Lana, the nice Russian woman I talked to on the phone. "Two men, 14-foot truck, everything included." Awesome.

The day of the move showed up, and so did Vladimir and Sergei, and a cargo van. No 14-foot-truck. As a result not everything fit in the van. As a result Vladimir and Sergei (who told me: "Helen is not a Russian name. I will call you Ilyona.") had to take two trips. As a result a move that was quoted to us at 3 hours, and for which we had budgeted for six hours, took twelve hours. Plus they charged us for tape, boxes, and blankets, even though we'd provided our own.

I called Lana.
"You sent the wrong truck, we shouldn't have to pay for all this time."
"Fine," said Lana. "Pay or don't pay. Do what you want."

Easy as that? We paid Vladimir and Sergei for their time ("Lana is - pardon my language - a bitch," Vladimir said), which was a few hundred under what they had tallied, and went inside to collapse into bed.

Then Vladimir came back to the door.
"They're sending people over, they said."
What?
"If people come here, you dial three numbers."
What?
"You know the three numbers? 9-1-1. You dial that if they come. Otherwise you get hurt."

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

We paid, of course. I went to the ATM and took out a giant pile of cash from my savings account, gave it to Vladimir, and went inside to call my mom. Who said: "I told you so. You fought the Russian mafia, and they won."

3 comments:

Sophie said...

Next time you fight them, you will win. You can practice on the Estonian mob or something.

ljd said...

this makes the prospect of having my parents help me move, letting my mom force me to keep every scrap of recycled paper, household knickknack, and expired medication, and being indebted in gratitude and various modes of passive aggression to them for the rest of my life, even, yea, driving a van from toronto to massachusetts myself...seem like a GREAT IDEA.

"Could be worse!" I'll tell myself. "Could have hired the Russian mafia!"

Hey, that goes for my still-to-be-fixed computer, too. Could have dropped it off with the Russian mafia!

Such a useful attitude!

Tori said...

This finally gives you a chance to learn a martial art with the skill and agility of jackie chan!