moving-again-logo

Removalists stories.

Removalists stories.

Over the years we’ve heard just about every story you can imagine.
Some of them have been pretty entertaining here in the office, others have been pretty scary.
Don’t worry the bad ones are ones we’ve found or had emailed us when people are telling us about their previous move.

Moving interstate across Australia is pretty challenging, which is why we’re here to help.
Take a look at the stories below and see why you should book yourself a quality removalist rather than trying to do it all for yourself.

 

Hire A Moving Service

When we moved the first time, I tried my best to convince my husband to call a moving company. He figured that because moving my stuff from my apartment to his was so simple, he could do it himself with his eyes shut. I tried to explain that in the five years that we had been living there together, we had accumulated a lot more stuff, plus moving one persons stuff is not a huge challenge, but when you add another person and two dogs into the equation things become a little more difficult.

I could have told you then that this was going to be one of those classic ˜I told you so moments that I would cherish for years and he would cringe every time I mentioned it. He told me I was just lazy.

On the day that we moved, it seemed like a great day to move, and he looked almost like he had everything under control. Although he certainly wasn’t a professional moving service, I figured I would give a little credit where credit was due. Unfortunately that feeling did not last for very long.

The first few items exited the apartment without any drama. He had invited a buddy of his from the restaurant he managed to come out and help move the heavier items. As they lifted the second part of our (my) precious twenty-five hundred dollar Italian leather sectional sofa up and headed towards the door, my husband grunted to me ˜see, honey, we didn’t need anyone to come help move houses.

I rolled my eyes as they carefully wedged it out the door and towards the stairway. But, we were saving money by doing it ourselves”so I bit my lip and kept quiet. Even if we wound up having a piece or two of slightly scraped furniture”that was still better then paying some moving company enormous fees to come out and do it for us. As long as nothing happened to my beautiful sofa.

He should never have smirked at me on the way out the door. Didn’t he know when you do something like that you’re just asking for something to go wrong? I didn’t see what happened next, but it was described by one of our neighbors on a lower floor as a ˜train wreck.

When I first heard the noise I had wondered if someone had had a little fender bender in the parking lot. That seemed to be happening more and more frequently as more people moved into the building and it was one of the reasons we were moving. We really wanted a place where the dogs could play outside without us having to drive five miles down the road to the park.

Before I knew it, Jimmy (my friend from the lower levels husband) came running into the apartment. Get your keys. He said to me. I looked at him and must have appeared a little confused, because he said never mind, Ill drive and grabbed my arm and shuffled me out the door.

Thankfully, one of the other neighbors had removed the sofa from its original position before I got down the steps. They had moved it to drag my darling (know-it-all) husband from beneath it. He looked at me as he leaned across the wall all-pitiful. His leg was bleeding.

Gina (Jimmy’s wife) laughed as I walked over to the couch to inspect the damage. Honey my freaking leg is broken he had said. Oh. I replied (still looking at the couch). Jimmy and I helped him into the elevator and drove him to the hospital where they x-rayed his leg. It was, in fact, broken.

Needless to say- after the medical bills, replacing the trashed potion of the couch, and hiring the removalists to complete the move that my now immobilized husband could not finish, we did not save any money. So, here is some advice. Listen to your wives, fellas, hire the movers..

 

Moving In Together

When I started Uni, my girlfriend Vicki and I decided it was the perfect time for us to get a place together. I had to move anyway (my new school was almost 100 km away from my apartment in Sydney), and besides that, I had worried constantly over the past year how I would maintain a long-distance relationship while working and finishing school. Moving in together just seemed like the natural progression.

After only a few tries, we found an apartment we both loved on the right side of town that was very reasonable in price. As soon as my previous lease expired, (the following month) we were ready to move in. Now, you would think hey, two kids, both in school, have never owned a home before. Heck, my girlfriend was moving straight out of her former dorm. We shouldn’t have that much stuff, should we?

Oh, but we did. Things started popping up out of thin air. For example, a week before we moved, an old classmate of mine dropped by with an entertainment set that my Grandmother had given me. I had loaned it to him almost hoping he would return it. I wasn’t very fond of it, and it was enormous in size and awkward. But, as luck would have it, Vicki was there when he brought it by and she thought it was just wonderful, so we had an ˜instant entertainment center. Hooray.

So, when it finally came time to move, we had somehow amassed this huge (and somewhat junk) collection of furniture. Needless to say, I was not thrilled at the prospect of moving it all. Especially with the prospect of moving interstate from one side of the state to the other.

Vicki insisted that we hire a moving house service to come in and take care of packing and moving everything. Thank God. I must say, I was under enough pressure at the time with school and work and an internship that I definitely did not need any added stress.

Well, the removalists came and went; all in all it was a good experience.

The removalists took care of everything. They loaded and unloaded all of our stuff. We weren’t at each others throats by the time the unloading was complete (which I’m sure we would have been if we had done it ourselves).

We were moved into our new apartment and completely unpacked within a weeks time. Within several months of moving home, we got rid of most of the junky furniture and replaced it with some nicer pieces that we had picked out ˜together. Come to think of it, getting rid of the old furniture was actually more of a hassle then moving in was.

Which brings us to my point. For any newbies, first time home buyers, or college kids taking the plunge, a word for the wise: it might be a good idea to go ahead and take the plunge and buy some mediocre, semi-tasteful furniture if you are moving away from home and can afford it.

While Aunt Pam’s and Grandma Norma’s stuff is free, it probably wont last for long if you really don’t like it.

Moving from my home Canberra

When I made the move from my apartment just off campus into a larger, nicer apartment on the more northern side of of Canberra I decided to take the easy route.

I had just graduated from Canberra University and the easy route was the way I was looking to take when it came to everything. After all, I had just finished busting my butt for four years. I deserved a little rest, right?

I hired a freshman (who obviously really needed the cash) to come into my old apartment and clean it after I moved. I also hired a maid service to come in and do the same thing at my new apartment.

I even had the carpets cleaned. And to top it off, I hired a really great removalist. When I had first moved into the older apartment, I had not been nearly as smart. I was young, didn’t have much money, and decided to do everything myself. Including the moving.

It was a disaster. So, a slightly older (and educated) me made a great decision and opted for the moving service. They came, they moved. What more could I possibly have asked for.

They did a great job.
No horror story here, all my furniture arrived in my new apartment exactly as it had departed.

I expressed my gratitude to one of the guys moving everything. He struck up a conversation, and before I knew it, we had become friends.
He was attending the very same University that I had graduated from and was due to graduate the following year. He had been working on and off for the moving company to make ends meet between semesters.

We kept in touch, and even started hanging out. It turned out we had a lot of the same interests (girls, mostly). The following year, when he graduated, he actually ended up becoming my roommate.

We hired a removalist to come and set him up in my apartment and we roomed together until last year, when I got married. In fact, he ended up keeping the apartment after I left. Isn’t that cool? It goes to show you never know..

 

Moving home and my own removalist.

Hello, everyone. I was reading some of the home moving stories here and I must say, some of them are quite interesting. My story, while not as entertaining as some of the others, serves a unique purpose.

Several years ago, after a bitter separation followed by an even more bitter divorce from my husband of eleven years, I took the notion that perhaps a change of scenery would be good for myself and my son and daughter. After purchasing a somewhat smaller but very cute home in a town close by and selling our previous home, I discovered that the task of moving home was completely my own.

After hours and hours of endless packing, it seemed as if we were pretty much ready to go. I did not have the transportation nor the physical stamina to move everything myself, so I began to consider my options. At first, I really considered renting a moving truck and asking a few friends and close family members to pitch in and help us out. After giving it a little more consideration, I decided that it would be best for me to go ahead and hire a removal company to take care of it all. I decided this for several reasons.

To begin with, I was a little hesitant to have my father (who is no longer a spring chicken) and one or two friends attempt to move my baby grand piano. It is one of the single most important pieces of heirloom furniture (if you can call it that) that I own. It was my Grandmother and before that, her mothers and before that, her mothers. So, you can probably understand why I decided that it was best to bring in the professionals

After some quick research on the web, I located a removalist that charged very reasonable fees. I called them up, explained my particular situation regarding the piano, and scheduled a moving date. They arrived promptly (a little early, if I recall correctly) and carefully and skillfully moved each and every piece of my furniture and belongings as if they were their own.

I followed behind them in my car to my new home and watched closely as they unloaded everything with as much ease and care as they had loaded it up. Impressed, I struck up a conversation with one of the removalists, telling him what a wonderful job they had all done and how much I appreciated it.

Coincidentally, he lived in the very same neighborhood. We continued to talk casually and I mentioned that we were looking for a local church where we could establish membership. Before I finished my sentence, he took a business card from his pocket and scribbled down a number.

He handed it to me and suggested that we attend his church, as his guest, at least until we had found somewhere where we were comfortable and wanted to place membership. I was flattered, and thankful for the outreach of kindness after being isolated after my divorce by so many of the friends that my former husband and I had shared.

And so I agreed and attended church with him the following Sunday. And the next Wednesday, and the next Sunday, and so forth. After two years of church services and friendship, two divorced parents of two recently formed our very own Brady Bunch and are now living happily ever after somewhere in sunny Noosa. I guess one could say that I got a whole lot more then I bargained for when I decided to hire a professional home moving service! Brings a whole new meaning to love thy neighbor, huh!.

Moving into a messy home, and how even the removalist helped

After the arrival of our second bundle of joy, my husband and I soon began to recognize that our cozy little startup home was beginning to turn from comfy and cozy to cramped and uncomfortable. After almost a year, we were finally able to find the perfect solution to our problem: an ideal-sized house that would easily accommodate our growing family.

The previous owners of our new home seemed kind enough, and to our delight, they seemed really anxious to strike up a deal for the house. Before we closed the deal, we both agreed (my hubby and I) to make the transition into our new home as smooth as possible. Rather then attempting to move everything ourselves: we decided to hire a professional moving service to do everything for us.

We were not moving a great distance, but we knew that the location of our new home would mean moving on interstate roads and we weren’t up for that. After all, we had our hands full enough just moving the children. So, we made the choice to leave moving furniture to the professionals and leave moving home to ourselves.

Finding and selecting the moving service was easy enough. I flipped though our local Yellow Pages, and after a few calls, everything was set up. We had scheduled the movers to come that following Saturday, and we had high hopes of being settled into our new home by the following Monday.

Everything went as planned, I tried very hard while packing everything to pack it in the best order possible (to avoid chaos when we arrived and began unpacking). Then, catastrophe struck. It seemed as if the previous owners have moved as quickly as they had signed the contract. The house was a mess. Completely trashed. I have never been so disappointed.

When you buy a house, you see its potential, all of the wonderful things you would like to do to improve it. The imperfections seem small. Unfortunately, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the previous owners, it seemed as if the imperfections had grown as quickly as Jacks beanstalk.

So there we sat, with the moving company on the way with an entire truckload of furniture and a house unfit to move into. Fortunately, my husband saved the day, and after a few quick calls on his cell, he had a professional cleaning service on the way and his secret weapon his mother.

I had no idea a house could be cleaned that quickly! I was amazed. Heck, even one of the removalists helped us finish up the vacuuming. So, needless to say, all is well that ends well. With the help of the cleaning service and a really great furniture moving company, we were able to get everything cleaned up and moved in that same weekend. Unfortunately, unpacking did not come along quite as easy!!!.

 

Moving Back To Melbourne

This spring, my wife and I decided for various reasons to move out of state. At that time, we were living in Northern New South Wales. Neither of us were from New South Wales, about five years earlier, my company offered a promotion in that area and I was the sucker who went for the bait.

Obviously, (if you detect a little sarcasm-your right on target) we were not happy in the area. We had moved there from Adelaide, which is somewhat different in both climate and social structure then Northern New South Wales. Not to offend any of you from New South Wales, my wife and I just were not cut out for the area. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Anyway, when the opportunity came for another transfer, we decided to jump on it.

We sold our house rather hastily, and purchased a new home from a for sale by owner seller in Melbourne. We came across the house online at a website specifically for houses for sale by owner. After a few emails, digital photographs and faxes within a week we were on a plane, on our way to see it in person.

Needless to say, we were as impressed with the house in person as we had been online. It was a wonderful deal, a great location, and we gave a firm yes to the owner before we stepped back on a plane to return home. After all the necessary legal junk had been taken care of like contracts, escrow, and all that stuff, we were ready to move in a little over two months.

Because we were moving across such an extended distance, I decided that it would be best for us to rent a truck and take care of the actual moving of our furniture and stuff ourselves rather then trying to hire an interstate moving company. Besides, if we had used a moving company over such a long distance, it would have cost us a fortune, right? After calling around, I agreed with myself that selecting a removal company was just not economical.

So, we rented a truck. My wife and I worked diligently to pack and load each and every one of our things onto the truck. She was awesome. I swear, I don’t know how she does it, but my wife could fit the state of Queensland into the ACT. He. Anyway, I was feeling a little tired by the time we had everything loaded up so I decided that we would rent the truck for an additional day (we originally planned on renting the removal truck for only two days) and get a good nights rest to take off early the following morning.

Night came and went and as you can probably imagine, sleeping in a house with no furniture stinks. The next morning, still tired and a little grumpy we climbed into the truck and began our journey. Now I don’t know about you all, but I had never driven a large-sized truck before. We had intentionally chosen the largest truck the rental company had to offer so that we were sure we could fit all of our belongings into one trip.

Once we got on the road, I decided this was probably not the best decision we could have made. It was like trying to ride an elephant in the Derby. Two hours after we started out and about ten cups of coffee, my hands were beginning to turn white on the steering wheel. After noticing that I was obviously in need of a break, my wife suggested that we stopped for a late breakfast and quick bathroom break.

Once my eyeballs appeared to be safely positioned back into my eye sockets and we had eaten a very tense breakfast, we were on the road again. The two-hour break intervals continued for the next eight hundred kilometers. Originally, we had planned on driving in shifts so that we could conserve driving time and return the rented truck quicker. After my wife sat in the drivers seat for about twenty minutes moving every mirror on the inside and outside of the truck at least ten times, I decided that it was probably a good idea to rent a hotel room and try again myself in the morning.

The second day of driving turned out almost as successful as the first. Drive for two hours, find somewhere with coffee and bathrooms (and, depending on what time it was, maybe food). Halfway into the second day, all my wife could do was complain. I drove too fast, I drove too slow, the air conditioner was too cold, I didn’t put my blinker on etc. I was beginning to wonder if there were any good divorce lawyers in state of Victoria (JUST KIDDING).

I finally gave up and decided to find another semi-cheap hotel for the evening and to finish the ride up the next day. Bright and early, we went back to our routine two-hour breaks and constant bickering. We hit road construction right outside of Melbourne, we had already seen three wrecks. We were spent. We pulled into our beautiful new empty home tired, cranky, and in immediate need of food and showers.

But we still had to unpack. And before we could unpack, we had to lower our car off the trailer that was hooked onto the back of the truck. The former owner stopped by, and out of sheer compassion, decided to help us unload. It was one-thirty that morning before we were finally finished, and we already had to pay for the additional days use of the truck, so again, we called it a night and fell onto our half-covered not-yet framed mattress..

The next afternoon, after almost ten hours of sleep, I awoke and immediately took the rented moving truck to the nearest drop-off location. After paying for the extra three days of truck rental fees, gas, hotel rooms, and food I decided that the unreasonable amount that the professional home moving company had quoted was beginning to look more and more reasonable. We didn’t save any money

We would have saved over $150 if we had chosen to use a moving house company instead of doing it ourselves. Not to mention the five days of complete misery. Ill never make that mistake again.

 

Moving your own furniture

About six months ago, my lovely wife and I happened upon the house we had always dreamed of. Ours was a rather nontraditional dream home. Rather than a nice, orthodox brick home with a picture-perfect picket fence out front, our idea of the perfect home was a charming, slightly aged log cabin. Coming upon it completely by chance, we were out visiting an old friend when we noticed a worn for sale sign in front of what appeared to be a large field leading toward a wooded area and up a distant-seeming hillside.

We casually commented on it, and refocused on our drive. A few minutes later, upon arrival at our friends home, my wife suggested that the lot would be ideal for someone looking to build a home in the country, and get away from the constant upheaval of the city.

To our surprise, our friend was the actual owner of the lot well, at least what we thought was a lot. Our curiosity aroused, he kindly offered to give us a quick tour, it was, after all, right down the road. To make a long story short, when we saw the cabin, we instantly fell in love with it. Although my wife was at first opposed to attempting to purchase the home from a friend (and at that time, business associate), I eventually wore her down and we arranged a great deal…

Once the deal had closed and we had finalized the contract and all that fun stuff, it was soon time to move into our little country retreat. Moving was going to be a cinch. Who needs a moving home company, anyway? After all, how hard could it be to move furniture, kitchen supplies, and a few boxes of clothes? You see, we decided that it was probably a good idea to hang onto our apartment in the city. I was still working at that time, and my wife was just convinced that moving completely out of the city would reduce us to Neanderthals in the New York social scene.

Anyway, we had both agreed to furnish the new house with furniture from my wife’s mothers estate. She had recently passed away leaving the majority of her things to my wife. Unfortunately, our Brisbane apartment did not boast quite enough space to accommodate it all so we were currently paying a small fortune for storage. It just made sense to go ahead and move it into our new house. I did not actually ever mention this to my wife, but I had sort of hoped that moving the furniture into our new home would give my wife a sense of closeness to her mother, and perhaps give her some closure.

Boy, was I in for a surprise. Being the old school, semi-egotistical man that my wife insists daily that I am, I came up with the wonderful idea of moving everything ourselves. After all, I had boasted, we were moving to a log cabin now, and we definitely weren’t in Manhattan anymore so why not do it ourselves and rough it a little? How hard could moving be?

And so that was that. I called in a few favors from friends here and there. Two from the office, and an old buddy I golf with, and within a few short hour I had myself a team of highly motivated movers. Fortunately, one of those highly motivated removalists also happened to have in his possession a long, flatbed trailer that was, in my opinion, ideal for the job.

Loading the furniture and things onto the trailer was a cinch. In fact, we were on our way and ahead of schedule in no time. In fact, we were rolling. And then it happened. You see, I had politely avoided mentioning that that strap ˜co-worker number one had so tediously wrapped and tied around the load looked a bit on the skimpy side. In fact, one could even say that the days entire misfortune might even be considered his fault. But what appreciative, considerate guy would say something like that? Not me, of course.

I do not think I will ever forget the sounds we heard next. First, came the boom then the racket-tatty-tatty, then, finally, a series of angry, shaken drivers behind us screeching tires and honking their horns. As I quickly put on the blinker and pulled to the side, somehow I just knew that my wife would never understand this couldn’t have possibly been my fault, after all, I didn’t tie the rope.

I’m not sure exactly how to describe what came next. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remove pieces of broken, shattered furniture from a busy highway? Probably not. I do. And so did my slightly annoyed, yet loyal buddies. An hour later, exhausted from heat and still harboring a sick feeling in my stomach, I surveyed the damage.

We were definitely going to have enough firewood to try out that lovely wood burning stove in the new house. As a matter of fact, we could likely have made it through a cold New York winter just using the bedroom suite. I was on the verge of tears. My buddy (the one who tied the strap) in an attempt to cheer me up said something to the effect of look man, at least its not your real furniture, right?. Right.

In case you’re wondering, my wife is speaking to me again. Finally. Although I don’t think she ever really got the whole it wasn’t my fault thing. For some crazy reason, she insists that due to the fact that it was my idea to rough it and try moving furniture myself, it must have been my fault. I know, its crazy.

And there you have it. The reason for this post. Fellas, don’t be dumb and macho and all that other stuff we can be sometimes. Hire a moving service. Let the removalists deal with the hassle of getting everything there and take over from there. Believe me, I am. Were finally getting rid of that apartment in the city. I have retired, and my wife is feeling less socially obligated. Yes, we are moving into the cabin as our full time residence. We have had a year or two to make some minor changes and improvements and could not be happier with our new home. But guess what? Were both retired now. No reason to rough it. In fact, Ive already chosen the moving service we will be using. So, if you’re moving heed my advice don’t try to be a hero. Call the furniture removal experts call the movers.