A moving follow-up, or foul-up?


Steve Burnette - Contributing columnist



Editor’s Note: Due to an error by our production staff, Steve Burnette’s column in Thursday’s print edition stated incorrectly that it was written by Chuck Tabor, and Chuck’s photo also mistakenly appeared. The column was, in fact, written by Steve Burnette. We apologize for the error.

OK, so where were we? Ah yes, part TWO of my woeful “Moving from Maine to Ohio” drama.

Part one, which feels like it was scribbled months ago, now slumbers comfortably in the famous archives of the News Journal’s July 26 digital edition, which I think means the July 27 hard copy issue.

It’s been a while, so you might want to refresh your eyeballs on the lead-up to this Pulitzer teaser. My readership fan base has been harping on me to get to this second part.

Well, rest assured, you two, here it is. I waited a bit because silly me thought the tragedy that began nearly two months ago would have landed some heroic finale by now; the damsel saved! The sick puppy lives! Steve’s 32-inch fantasy waistline wardrobe discovered in a dumpster! Anyone find the leaves to a once impressive Amish-crafted dining room table? Anyone? Anyone?

Sergio — of Rhymes with Infinity Relocation Services out of Florida — opens the back of his Fudge It rental truck, one-third full of someone else’s “goods”, and did I mention it was growing dark outside?

Sergio then takes a hastily guided tour of the house with my wife, and declares, “You have too much stuff.”

Ah….we can finally relax, our hero of this novella has spoken and has everything under control.

Quickly our hero swings into action! He grabs his dolly and begins in the dining room, stacking boxes on top of boxes, then escorting them down the two steps leading from the side entryway into the garage and onto the back of the Fudge It rental truck. No ramp to quell the heavy pounding of those overly stacked boxes down those steps. No hydraulic lift to raise the freshly damaged belongings from the ground level onto the truck.

He’s working so swiftly he hasn’t the time to care about such silly things as ramps, hydraulic lifts, or boxes stamped “FRAGILE.” It’s time to toss!

An hour passes, the truck is full, and it doesn’t look like Sergio’s even made a dent in the house. But he’s certainly made dents in the house (more on that later).

“We’ll be back in the morning to finish up,” says Sergio. I respond, “But we need this stuff out of here tonight because the new owners are moving in tomo…”

Sergio interrupts, “Not our problem, we need our rest.” Side note…I mention “we” here because Sergio had a partner in crime, we’ll call him Kyle. Kyle was decent but boring, so he has been excused from this masterpiece.

“We’ll have a nice big truck and a full crew first thing in the morning, and we’ll get everything out in a jiffy. Now, let’s go over how the tips should go…”

Thank you Sergio. I am feeling a warm glow of confidence with each promise you make, and with such verbiage as “jiffy” and talking about tipping you, I know you are a master of your craft. Now we just need to contact our realtor to contact their realtor to explain there is going to be a slight “delay”, a “hiccup” in the morning if you will, probably just a couple hours, nothing more.

Certainly that will be communicated to all necessary parties in a timely fashion this late in the evening. Everyone can make their needed adjustments with this little bit of notice. This is normal, right?

We grab a hotel in nearby Portland. But we must wake up very early to get back to oversee the move, with our hero’s new crew and the big truck; because you would hate to arrive and the new owners be there while all of your stuff is still there, and your mover hasn’t arrived yet, and God forbid the communication that we counted on the night before between the realtors not be communicated.

Oy. That would be just … what … happened.

Morning has broken, and 10 minutes away from pulling in, the phone rings, “This is Roz (our realtor) and the new owners are here standing in the front yard, the wife is in tears, and there’s a lady named Kathy standing in the garage who says she was told to help herself to your empty cans, bottles, and other things you might not want to take with you. The new owner’s moving truck is here as well, and your truck is nowhere. Are you heading this way anytime soon?”

Holy Moly, dear readers, I see I’m at the warning track again, the dreaded six-hundred, dare I say seven-hundred plus words for my column of amusing anecdotes. I am so sorry. It looks like this is going to have to be a three-parter at least, maybe a miniseries.

Don’t they say the best things in life always come in threes? I don’t recall ever hearing that either.

But I beg your indulgence, I promise we’ll wrap this story up with my next column, which, if Tom is willing, I’ll pump out in just a week’s time so we can be done with Sergio, Rhymes with Infinity, the Fudge It rental truck, and who knows, maybe boring Kyle will make a cameo appearance in the third and final chapter of whatever this is.

Don’t count on it though. Until next time, dear readers…

Steve Burnette is Executive Director of the Murphy Theatre.

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Steve Burnette

Contributing columnist