Ah, progress.
Aug. 10th, 2004 11:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
plonqThere was a time in my life where I earned a paltry wage moving things for people who all had more money than me. Today I work for a company where I earn a less paltry wage helping move things for people who all have more money than me. This is progress... I think. Anyway, this story concerns that earlier phase in my life.
It was a pretty standard delivery; one queen sized mattress and box spring.
The destination for the new bed was one of those multi-story heritage houses that Victoria has in surplus. Everything appeared to be in order when we arrived, albeit the owners of the new bed seemed a little more nervous than could be readily explained by the usual heady excitement over owning a new box spring and mattress. When we learned that the new box spring and mattress would be going up to the master bedroom on the top floor we decided to use the living room as a staging area so that we could close and lock the truck in case the move posed any problems. When we were ready to begin the second leg of the move, they hit us with their request for "extra service".
"If it's not too much trouble, would you be able to bring the old bed downstairs before you take the new one up? We don't need you to haul it away or anything." Right away the Plonqster's suspicion-o-meter jumped at this request. When it came to bed moves, people usually had the old one moved out of the way by the time we got there unless they were too old and/or invalid to move a mattress. This couple was comparatively young - in their mid 40s at most - and seemed quite capable of moving a queen sized bed without outside assistance.
What this told me was that the bed they wanted us to move was either too awkward, or too disgusting for their liking. "Sorry about the state of the mattress. Poor aunt Edna suffered from exploding bowel syndrome and then hemorrhaged all over it. Um, do you guys have plastic out in your truck?"
Fortunately that was not the case this time.
The couple followed us up the stairs, explaining along the way that the bed had come with the house. Prior to their renting of the place, it had been occupied by a half-dozen college students who had moved the bed upstairs and left it behind when they moved out. They said that the bed was in decent enough shape, but it just didn't have the support that they needed for their backs, etc.
As we climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, the source of their concern became obvious; the stairway was steep and narrow, and switched back on itself at the first landing. It was split not by a rail, but by a dividing wall that made it even more constraining. Naturally there were paintings and old lighting fixtures in the stairwell. I'd seen worse. We hauled the old mattress out without any problem, and then trudged back upstairs to get the box spring. We each grabbed an end of the box spring, and it sagged in the middle when we picked it up.
I know a thing or two about beds. A standard box spring is just a rectangular, cross-slatted wood frame with a spring assembly nailed to it, and ticking pulled over so that your mattress isn't sitting on bare springs. They don't sag in the middle - or they're not supposed to.
We flipped the unit up on its edge to see what was going on.
Somebody had neatly cut the wood frame in half and...
...and...
...installed hinges!
"You may not know the answer to this," said D flatly, "but why are there [pause] hinges on your bed?"
They finally got around to telling us what they had neglected to mention before; when the previous occupants of the house had moved the bed upstairs, they hadn't been able to navigate around the switchback in the stairway. They had managed to manoeuvre the mattress around the corner, but the box spring had stymied them until, after several tries, one of them got the brilliant idea to cut it in half and attach hinges. Even so, they'd had to force it around the corner and had damaged the plaster and paint in the stairwell during the move. We weren't going to damage the stairwell, were we? They would understand if we had to put hinges in their new box spring in order to move it up the stairs.
Ah ha! Now I knew why they'd insisted that we move the old one out first; they didn't think we'd be able to get the new one around the corner! Fools! Did they not know that we were (under)paid professionals?
It never astounds me how the obvious can be lost on so many people - both the college students who cut the bed in half, then later the couple who bought the new bed. Out of eight people, it had never occurred to one of them to stand the box spring on end in order to get it around the tight corner. Not only did the new bed go up the stairs without a hitch, it was one of our easiest moves of the day.
Some people - oy.
It was a pretty standard delivery; one queen sized mattress and box spring.
The destination for the new bed was one of those multi-story heritage houses that Victoria has in surplus. Everything appeared to be in order when we arrived, albeit the owners of the new bed seemed a little more nervous than could be readily explained by the usual heady excitement over owning a new box spring and mattress. When we learned that the new box spring and mattress would be going up to the master bedroom on the top floor we decided to use the living room as a staging area so that we could close and lock the truck in case the move posed any problems. When we were ready to begin the second leg of the move, they hit us with their request for "extra service".
"If it's not too much trouble, would you be able to bring the old bed downstairs before you take the new one up? We don't need you to haul it away or anything." Right away the Plonqster's suspicion-o-meter jumped at this request. When it came to bed moves, people usually had the old one moved out of the way by the time we got there unless they were too old and/or invalid to move a mattress. This couple was comparatively young - in their mid 40s at most - and seemed quite capable of moving a queen sized bed without outside assistance.
What this told me was that the bed they wanted us to move was either too awkward, or too disgusting for their liking. "Sorry about the state of the mattress. Poor aunt Edna suffered from exploding bowel syndrome and then hemorrhaged all over it. Um, do you guys have plastic out in your truck?"
Fortunately that was not the case this time.
The couple followed us up the stairs, explaining along the way that the bed had come with the house. Prior to their renting of the place, it had been occupied by a half-dozen college students who had moved the bed upstairs and left it behind when they moved out. They said that the bed was in decent enough shape, but it just didn't have the support that they needed for their backs, etc.
As we climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, the source of their concern became obvious; the stairway was steep and narrow, and switched back on itself at the first landing. It was split not by a rail, but by a dividing wall that made it even more constraining. Naturally there were paintings and old lighting fixtures in the stairwell. I'd seen worse. We hauled the old mattress out without any problem, and then trudged back upstairs to get the box spring. We each grabbed an end of the box spring, and it sagged in the middle when we picked it up.
I know a thing or two about beds. A standard box spring is just a rectangular, cross-slatted wood frame with a spring assembly nailed to it, and ticking pulled over so that your mattress isn't sitting on bare springs. They don't sag in the middle - or they're not supposed to.
We flipped the unit up on its edge to see what was going on.
Somebody had neatly cut the wood frame in half and...
...and...
...installed hinges!
"You may not know the answer to this," said D flatly, "but why are there [pause] hinges on your bed?"
They finally got around to telling us what they had neglected to mention before; when the previous occupants of the house had moved the bed upstairs, they hadn't been able to navigate around the switchback in the stairway. They had managed to manoeuvre the mattress around the corner, but the box spring had stymied them until, after several tries, one of them got the brilliant idea to cut it in half and attach hinges. Even so, they'd had to force it around the corner and had damaged the plaster and paint in the stairwell during the move. We weren't going to damage the stairwell, were we? They would understand if we had to put hinges in their new box spring in order to move it up the stairs.
Ah ha! Now I knew why they'd insisted that we move the old one out first; they didn't think we'd be able to get the new one around the corner! Fools! Did they not know that we were (under)paid professionals?
It never astounds me how the obvious can be lost on so many people - both the college students who cut the bed in half, then later the couple who bought the new bed. Out of eight people, it had never occurred to one of them to stand the box spring on end in order to get it around the tight corner. Not only did the new bed go up the stairs without a hitch, it was one of our easiest moves of the day.
Some people - oy.
