I've been trying to think of Halloween story I could relate to you. You know, something scary with headless corpses, oozing, bloody guts and calls coming from inside the house. After much consideration I believe I have a personal story that fits the bill.
Last weekend GIGC, OBJ, Dickie Sanchez and I set out to move elderly Momma Strange from her abode by the shores of Lambton County to God's green pasture this side of the Big Smoke.
Having booked our truck- U-HAUL- three weeks earlier for a one-way run between destinations, and with the sun shining we set out in the Sanchez mobile to what we were sure would be a smooth transition for the matriarch of the family.
However, as our journey continued an ill wind with brooding clouds began to blow in from the west bringing with it something sinister and foreboding.
Unable to get a response of final confirmation two days earlier, we tried yet again via cell phone on the course of our journey. We were greeted by excruciating wait times at the U-HAUL 1-800 number and Zombie-like employees, who in some case disconnected us.
With an eerie blackness surrounding us and an angry wind howling as it whipped by, we concluded our three hour journey to Momma Strange's house only to find a recording, left at 5:20 PM, telling us our U-HAUL booking was confirmed, but we'd have to pick our truck up in Clinton- a two hour drive north of our current location.
Two hours there! Two hours back! That's four hours for you idiots at U-HAUL who can't count.
Furthermore we were told amidst our constant complaining and pleas for morality, sanity and humanity, "U-HAUL has a hard time keeping trucks in Sarnia."
You'd think after the
bad press this company has endured they would make an effort to have at least one truck in close proximity. If not Sarnia, then across the river in Port Huron, London's an hour drive, Detroit, Windsor? Hell, if they new this was going to be the case they could have set us up with a truck in Toronto when we left. surely there had to be a truck to fit our needs there? But no! Clinton was the only U-HAUL dealer in the 100 or so, within the radius, that had the truck.
To make a long story short, nineteen hours and many coffees later we finally finished loading Momma Strange into her new digs.
I invite a response from U-HAUL to this blog to disclaim anything I've said here. Go on tell me my visions of your inept blundering and
butchered customer relations are a figment. Just the crazed ramblings of someone hopped-up on too much caffeine...........yeah, I thought as much.
Well at least I'll have fun filling out the customer satisfaction survey they sent me.
Remember children U-HAUL means U-FUCKED.
Aside from not being able to breathe and the obvious erection I'd rather not die from erotic asphyxiation.
Perhaps I need a costume that's just a touch more on the gay side?
Hey Christmas decorations are up in some stores now anyway, why not rub it in.... 
And monkeys might fly out of my butt.
Smells like fish.
Tastes like chicken 
