Oh good god it’s been a long weekend, and not in an all night out hilariously expensive drink bill way; we’re out of the old house and now happily ensconced in the ‘in-between’ half way house while we sort out the final parts of our move having not been able to make move in and move out dates coincide. So we’ve spent the last two days getting up at 7am lumping and dumping stuff from the house to the storage unit, cleaning the old place and making sure we weren’t putting stuff into storage that we’d need in the interim weeks before moving into our new place.
As if moving house isn’t stressful enough, I’ve found an experience within the house moving chain that I dislike even more than the lumping and dumping itself… that is; putting stuff into storage. We chose the Big one that’s Yellow, Staple’s Corner seemed like the nearest and easiest to access, so we booked it over the phone; “Yeah fine Mr Evans” they said; It’ll be hundred odd quid, no don’t worry about ID we’ll just need a driving license” – Yeah… Right.
On arriving at the unit we were showed the ‘room’ – I’m assuming the assistant thought that we may not be able to imagine an empty 70ft Square box; we then got down to doing the paperwork, and that’s when it all started to go awry, “oh no sir the sales assistant said. “We can’t do it for that price, because to do that you’ll need to do it via direct debit he said, fair enough… I thought, until and for that you’ll need a bill, another form of ID and something with your address on the sales assistant said, his face unchanged, still looked as happy as a wanking jap, so without those forms of ID – all back at the old house with the paperwork we need to take to the stop-gap house, we ended up paying just over £400 for 8 (apparently cheaper than 4) weeks storage…
…and today when we needed to go back with the odds and sods that were left over, would the bastards at Staple’s Corner answer their phones so we could check opening hours, would they bugger: after trying for over an hour to phone them I decided to give the Finchley Branch a call, they said No problem sir… you should be able to book the 24 hour access over the phone… I’ll e-mail them to let them know you’re trying to call them the helpful chap said, shortly after I finally got through to Staple’s Corner, only to find the phone answered by the grinning idiot; “I’d like to get 24 hour access tonight please…” I said, “oh no sir” the baboon said we won’t do that over the phone (despite him saying to the Asian couple unloading their van next to ours the other day that they could), “why not…” I said, “because you have to book it at the front desk I won’t do it over the phone“, “…but the guy at Finchley said you could, and you said yesterday…” no he said (still sounding like he was going to break into fits of giggles: “why not” I said, “I’m 80 miles away and really need access”, “Well you have to book it at the front desk“.
Exasperated I asked “well why…” and was promptly cut off with: “because” before the phone was cut off. I’m presuming he was about to say “Because I’ll offer it to my mates, but won’t offer it to you because it’s almost knocking off time and I can’t be bothered to deal with customers because I’m far to important and I’ve got a hot date with a copy of Max Power, and Handkerchief and a Mother Hubbard’s five daughters: Fucking Wanker.