OKAY, IM SORRY, but I simply cannot carry it another inch. Are you sure you have your end? That is excellent news. Get a good grip my man, because Im not keeping anything up – look, no hands! – youre the only one supporting the grand piano. What do you mean, where am I going? I’m going home is where I’m going. Or I might stop by the video shop and get a movie. Where Im going is unimportant – where I won’t be is what you need to concentrate on, and that is at the other end of the large musical instrument you’re supporting. Now, if I could just climb on top for a second?
Yes I know that my weight adds a huge amount of poundage but it’s only for a minute, while I slide down the surface like so . . . all the way past you and – whee! – land on the stairwell. Sorry, did I clip your elbow there?
Damn, look at this rip on my jeans. I must have caught them on the edge. What’s that? Yes, course I’m aware that lifting heavy objects is part of the job description for a furniture mover. I’m not a half-wit. But come on. Carrying a grand piano up five flights of stairs in a Victorian conversion in the middle of July? That’s a joke, right? I mean, wasn’t that actually a joke in a Laurel and Hardy film? Do you remember that sketch? That’s exactly how ridiculous a notion it is. What? Laurel and Hardy actually made it to the top of their building? Well fair dues to them, but let me tell you – that was the movies, pal. What fools we’ve been to attempt it ourselves.
No, generally speaking I am not a quitter. But why do you have to make quitting sound so bad? I offered you an out and you said no. I said “let’s just knock it on the head and drive back to base,” but would you listen? No, you wouldn’t. You would not listen and that’s why you are where you are now. Let me be absolutely clear – it’s not my fault. It simply can’t be done. I have been trying as hard as I can for the last 40 minutes but my arms are too weak. My muscles aren’t large enough and the piano is too heavy. I am not able to lift the piano. That’s basic physics.
I can see from your callused hands and ample frame that you have been doing this job for months, and you’re really good at it too. You don’t even need those coarse gloves that I used to wear when I started as a furniture-mover yesterday morning. But let me explain. When I signed up for the job, I didn’t realise just how heavy some of the furniture was going to be. In my mind, I visualised chairs, hi-fi systems, plants and pillows, a nest of tables. You know – regular furniture that regular people are able to move. I thought we’d sit on crates unwrapping bubble-wrapped crystal tumblers and listen to the nice lady talk about her divorce. And when we got done, she would ask us to stay for dinner and a bottle of wine, and then maybe tip us €50. I thought the job would bulk me up and save me gym membership. But it’s really . . . hard.
No, it’s not going to work if you put your end down and walk out too. Think it through. If you do that, the piano will slip and slam into your body and then mine; though the impact of it crushing your torso to a pulp would slow it down enough so that I could duck around the corner before the piano slammed into the wall down here. Probably. Listen, I know you’re angry, but be rational. I’m a distraction to you. My hanging around is not going to make things better. It’s my fault for being so decent. If I had just left instead of trying to talk it through, you would probably have hefted the piano all the way up to the apartment by now. I’d be happy to ring back to the base and tell them to send another mover out to help. Does that sound like a plan?
The only thing is, I don’t have any cash. Do you have change for the phone? No, I can get your wallet out of your pocket if you just hold still. Okay fine! You don’t want me touching you. Not a problem – yo comprende.
Hey, just before I head on, I wanted to say that I know that when you shouted at me you were doing it for my own good. And I do know what would happen to the world if we all just dropped what we were doing when the going got tough. Or at least I think I do. The world would fall apart, wouldn’t it? Is that the answer? Or break? Something like that. It would not be good, I guess. And I just wanted to say, no hard feelings. Shake? No, of course you can’t shake. Sorry.
How dare you call me that! Have you heard of the band Franz Ferdinand? It’s like the singer’s, only longer. And while we’re on the subject of appearances, what the hell are you doing working for a company called Starving Student Movers? You’re about 50. Where did you study? Excuse me? You never even went to college?!
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You might want to keep your voice down. You can’t be happy living a lie. Think about it. There are other jobs you could do. You could easily throw people out of a bar, and you’ve got a full driving licence, so you could drive a cab. Maybe you could be a wrestler – are the WWF hiring? Okay be cool. Do not let your end go! I cannot stress that enough!