Having spent over 30 years of my life in the family products moving industry, I have a long period of encounters. As of late, one of my children asked me: what was the most interesting thing that consistently happened to me during my Sydney removalists years as a mover? All things considered, I didn’t need to consider it . . . I recollect it like it was yesterday.
Fascinating things can happen to movers and they can meet some “unique” individuals along their excursion. Once, while I was at a storage space in Los Angeles, California, I plunked down close to the proprietor of the organization to have some time off. This specific storage space looked run down and in extremely unfortunate shape. It was in a terrible area of town and fundamentally seemed as though it should have been destroyed. There was an explanation it had this appearance.
From an external perspective, one would imagine that it was an inane, useless structure . . . yet, this capacity organization really held the assets of the rich and popular. VIPs put away their things at this business due to the manner in which it showed up. It was a shrewd idea by the proprietor of the organization. While we sat together visiting, his stockroom folks were “digging” out an extremely decent vehicle for proprietor was on her way down to get it. On the off chance that my memory serves me accurately, it was a dark Porsche. In practically no time, a young woman came in and approached the proprietor and me. She obligingly took a gander at me and said, “hi,” and started chatting with the proprietor. Afterward, she bounced in the Porsche and drove away. Taking a gander at the proprietor, I offered the remark that she looked exceptionally recognizable, yet I was unable to put her. He recently giggled and said, “That was Christina Applegate!” Now, how cool is that? Much to my dismay that three years after the fact I would be once again at this equivalent stockpiling building and it would be the site for the most clever thing that consistently happened to me as a mover.
At some point around 1992-1993 I was given a “extraordinary” move from the North East to Los Angeles. My dispatcher let me know that every one of the effects would be going to a storage space, however the structure had no signs, letters, logo or anything on the structure. Indeed, I knew unequivocally where this capacity place was, and realize that the client must be somebody “unique.” When I showed up at the house, I was met by the woman I would be moving and she was so sweet and kind . . . a truly pleasant individual. She ended up being a cousin of the Gabor sisters: Zsa and Eva. She had a lot of stuff including many sculptures made from rock and marble. It was a harsh two days stacking everything, except I at long last made it happen. The whole move required ten days to finish, and by and by I wound up back at the L.A. storage space. Everything fell off perfect, no harms . . . an ideal move.
After everything was finished, I approached the woman and said my standard thing, “Indeed, I delighted in moving you and best of luck at your new home.” With that popular Hungarian pronunciation she answered, “Goodness dawling, you did really fabulous work . . . stand by one moment . . . I need to give you something.” Now in the entirety of my years as a mover, I really never truly thought often about getting a tip from my clients. It truly didn’t make any difference to me. Yet, this time I thought, “Amazing, Zsa Gabor’s cousin! This will be an incredible tip!” She left to her vehicle and a couple of moments later returned. Again she said, “It was a great move, dawling and you are a sweet man. You look so drained . . . I figure you might be falling short on potassium.”
Then, at that point, without any hesitation, she broadened her arm and in her grasp was my tip . . . a banana. Indeed, truth be told . . . a banana. Trapped in a snapshot of complete disarray, I was as yet ready to answer with a calm, “Thank you,” and with that . . . she was no more. I went to the proprietor of the organization as though to shout out for help and he did the main thing he could do . . . he only bursted out giggling!
I said my farewells and left to my Freightliner and advanced back onto Route 110, then, at that point, Highway 101 to Interstate 210, lastly Interstate 15. As I got comfortable for my process out of California toward my next get, I just couldn’t quit giggling.
I came to over for my cooler and took out a pleasant, cold pop. I needed to concede that I was feeling exceptionally drained and somewhat eager. I looked over to the front seat and saw my “tip” gazing back at me . . . a splendid, yellow banana.