Ears to the Ground

My readership is about 75 people and half of that is family. Never in my life has a post been shared as much as the last one. 

Well...it seems I tapped into something deep and wide within our little military community. It would appear that I struck a nerve that caused a reflex that resulted in hundreds of shares and thousands (and I am not exaggerating, thousands) of horror stories about military moves being shared all across Facebook. I know it was thousands because I gave up reading my book club book for almost a week in favor of scrolling and empathizing with new military wives, wives with newborns, wives with five kids and a deployed husband, families who dared to buy anything nice or collect anything of value or simply expected a professional team of packers and movers to treat them and their belongings with respect, but instead were stolen from, lied to, intimidated and, in more than one case, sexually harassed. The grievances ranged from inexperienced day-labor packers ruining family heirlooms to unprofessional behavior to dishonest business practices to outright theft...and every shade of sketchy in between. Compiled, it would be a bestseller, if it wasn't all so shocking and heartbreaking.

Of course, sprinkled sparingly throughout was the occasional fairy tale move.
Once upon a time, in a land far away, I had the best move ever. The driver was professional and organized, the packers and movers were experienced and courteous (and had no problem passing the background check to get on base), and all of my boxes were well-labeled and logical. I bought them lunch but they showed great appreciation and didn't pack any of their trash in my kitchen boxes. They didn't play offensive music or cuss in front of my kids. They didn't make any sexual advances toward me. They wrapped all furniture thoroughly, made sure everything was well-marked and were done by 5:30. Nothing was broken and the damages were few. And they all lived happily ever after. 

True story. But more rare than a unicorn reading Shakespeare.

What I inadvertently revealed was an entire population who is living the nightmare while civilians around them assume they are living the fairy tale. The famous disconnect between the less than 1/2 of 1% of the population that is serving in the military and... everyone else. I have been an Army wife for almost 11 years. I have spent at least the last 5 years trying to educate my friends and family about the stark differences between their perception of our lives and the realities. From surviving moves and deployments to adjusting to new cultures to trying to find friends when you are 30 miles from the closest major military installation, I have been vocal about the challenges (but also the many rewards) of this life. I would assume that my friends and family are quite aware of the sacrifices Servicemembers and family members make to protect our country. Yet still, many of them expressed surprise and even shock that a moving company and an auction business could be selling the "lost" household goods from military families. But my fellow members of the military community? They were not at all surprised. The greatest surprise to us was that it appears the auction was legitimate. How sad that we all assumed the worst, but it is because we have been conditioned.

As I read through post after post about destroyed furniture, the egregious disrespect for personal items and the concern many wives voiced for their personal safety while home alone with a team of packers, it occurred to me that this has been going on for DECADES. What probably began as human error has slid into corruption, deceit and mind-boggling unprofessionalism. This is not the fairy tale that our kid's Cub Scouts leader or our friend from the gym think we are living.

I would like to set the record straight on a few things, however:
1. Apparently, we can go to Iceland. Or, we could. All I can say is that I hope someday they need more logisticians.

2. Remember this picture?

That is from the best move we've ever had. EVER. If you are lucky enough to get United with Armstrong contracting and a driver named Tyler, shake his hand, buy him and the crew lunch and sit back, knowing you and your household goods are in excellent hands.

3. My closet is organized by color and then formality. Please assume this method also applies to how I prepare for a move. Many of us start weeks, if not months, before a PCS. We pre-sort, pre-label, pre-box. We dispose of anything that we don't want to move again. We separate out what we will hand-carry, whether it's expensive jewelry or a drawer full of underwear or scrapbooks from births. Then we wash the dishes and the laundry, take out the trash, get ready for Game Day. I have not met a family yet who doesn't prepare in some way. I should have bought stock in Ziploc a long time ago.

4. I did fail to mention that if furniture is damaged in a move and you would rather get it repaired than replaced, that is an option. In this last move, our kitchen island was, I think, dropped off the truck onto the ground. The front wheels were busted up through the bottom shelf and it looked utterly irreparable. But I requested someone come look at it, just in case. The gentleman who was contracted to repair it did a beautiful job and he returned it to us better than new.

5. I should be very clear that of our 5 moves so far, we've had 1 OK move and 1 pretty great move. I guess 2 out of 5 ain't bad. But it's not the majority. No one gloats about a glorious move, probably for fear of jinxing the next one. But we need to be more vocal on review sites like PCS Grades, both about the bad and the good. And then we need to ask that our voices count for something.

Lastly...

6. Ohhh Bay Area Movers...what can I say? The Dalai Lama once said, "When you lose, do not lose the lesson." There are reasons why the military community fought to halt the auction and some of it had to do with dates on crates, but some of it did not.

7. There are amazing packers and movers out there. But it only takes a few bad apples to spoil the whole bunch.

And now I have run out of cliches.

The overwhelming good that has come from all of this is the conversation it started about the possible changes that could be made to the move process. I would love to say that this was my intention all along, but all I set out to do was explain to my Facebook friends why this news story was such a BFD. As it turns out, it was just a symptom of a much more serious disease that everyone had simply learned to accept.  But when I asked the question, "What would you change about the PCS process?", seasoned military families began making reasonable and feasible suggestions about how to make the entire move more efficient and safe, for both stuff and people. And we have a plan to write it up and submit it to anyone who will read it, with the hopes that someone, somewhere has the power to do something. If you have a suggestion, please leave it in the comments. It is too late for those crate owners from the 90's, but maybe not for us. There's always a silver lining. Oh look..I had one cliche left. Victory!

PS Watch your cats, y'all. I read FOUR different stories about how the movers packed the cat. I'm strapping a bell on Lulu tonight.