A moving tale

Since I’m moving house this week, I went out yesterday to the nearest bank to get smallish bills for tips. The nearest bank in this instance was Bank of America, an institution I’ve despised since the 70s, and they didn’t disappoint even now.

Because having legal currency of the United States isn’t enough for them to exchange for other denominations of legal currency; you have to have an account with them for them to move their arse.

So, no tenners for the movers.

But on my walk back to the office I considered that, since this moving company is charging me 25% of my total costs of moving from the West Coast to the East last year to haul my kit from one NoVa county to the next, I should perhaps expect them to be paying their staff so well that tips are not welcome.

As an aside, I got a quote from this same company for the cross-country move, which came in at about $5K more than the next highest one. And the estimator this time, in surveying my effects to come up with his 25%-of-a-3000-mile-relo quote, glanced at my pictures on the wall, got the vapors and said, “You’ll want to move those yourself.”

Evidently charging more than two large for a 20-mile move doesn’t include packing and transporting anything that might break.