More of life's little lessons...from a moving truck

We make big assumptions in life. We do this much of the time because we are raised a certain way, live in a specific environment, interact with just a small portion of the world at large. I think this is why I have enjoyed moving over the past few years. You learn something every time you change the scenery. Your world gets bigger, and so does your ability to draw connections between disparate people and situations.

I love when I come face to face with a truly false assumption that I have made - and it changes your whole perspective.

Some assumptions about moving:

My stuff will get broken. This one, in my case, turned out to be true. But what a good lesson in detachment and perspective. The broken piece of marble, the banged up desks, and the shattered pieces can be fixed or replaced. But note to others moving - SUPERVISE the kitchen pack. It is very important unless you are actively trying to make a fun art piece out of what used to be your kitchen set. I see some mosaics in my future.

Unpacking service is the best! Well, it would be if they put everything in cabinets and drawers. Unpacking service is a bit of false advertising that you know about upfront. I oscillated between either "wow, this is overwhelming" OR "really? we brought that? we brought an EMPTY container of wet wipes?" for about 2 hours while the movers unpacked items. Followed closely by: "oh, shit, they packed clementines...and those didn't move well."

Worst "are you kidding me?" unpack - A bag of ripe trash and the clementines.
Best "so glad to see you!" unpack - My wedding album. Because, well, it's not really replaceable. I was wed before digital!

But perhaps the biggest assumption that I made is the one I'm most embarrassed about. I made a big assumption about the person who would be driving the truck. That this individual would be rough, tough, and really concerned about just getting things from point A to point B. That he wouldn't be customer service oriented or someone I could relate to at all.

I was 100% dead wrong. When Ron, my driver, left on Thursday - I was sad. When he called me on Saturday "just to check in and make sure everything else had unpacked well" - my heart smiled. He had been my lifeline to my belongings over the past two weeks. He had called frequently to tell me where he was on his journey.  When my stuff arrived with damage because it had been packed improperly - he called to complain before I even had the chance to. We chatted and I got to know his story. His family in Wisconsin, a young son he so rarely sees - older kids off on their own. What cities he likes, which ones he doesn't. How much more of the country he has seen. This man delivered service that was truly exceptional.



It is so important to remember that we all have stories - and that what we assume is often far from the case.
I had this ridiculous vision that truck drivers hang out on their CB radios, listening to music and chatting with each other while they drive, living a life that is hard - but not - and I'll freely admit to thinking exactly this next statement "not stressful like my job is." Really, Abbie? After spending some time rethinking this, talking to Ron, and following his travels across the country - I'm here to say that Ron's job makes my job look like I hang out on a couch all day eating bon-bons. Mandated sleep for truckers is woefully inadequate, their schedules require days and days of work in a row, and they may never quite know when a job will be done.

It's just too bad that Ron couldn't stay longer. Because I'm pretty sure I would have had him doing Forrest yoga if the unpacking had taken just a few more days.

But like so many people in life - I'm grateful our paths crossed. Not just because he made a very stressful event a little bit easier. I'm grateful because he taught me a lesson about assumptions, and gave me a great big dose of perspective.

So if you hear me honking at the Ace/Atlas trucks from now on - I'm just hoping it's Ron and that he hears my hello - and my thank you.