F-d by Lightning Van Lines
Peter
Submitted this review about
Lightning-Vanlines
Review made Live: 1/9/2010 6:54:00 PM
I was F-d by Lightning Van Lines.
The first thing they’ll brag about is their “A” rating with the Better Business Bureau. But in my experience, they only got the job half right—and as we all remember from school, 50 percent is an “F.”
F also stands for “false”—as in the move specialist telling me from the get-go that it would take about “8 to 10 days” for them to deliver my stuff across the country. “In most cases, that’s generally how long a move of this size takes,” is essentially what he told me when we met in early December.
I should note here: You couldn't fill even a one-bedroom apartment with what little I asked LVL to move. So you’d think this move would be quick and easy, especially since I was paying them $1,500 in cash ... “Lightning Van Lines,” I said to myself as I began comparing movers. “Now, this company MUST be fast.”
So now, F also stands for false advertising, too. These guys having “Lightning” in their name is like Black Angus hanging a sign out front that shouts, “Vegetarian Buffet!” ... No restaurant operator on Earth would indulge in such absurdly false advertising. But considering how slow they were with my move, Lightning Van Lines seems to have no such shame.
Actually, I should take a moment to acknowledge and commend Lightning Van Lines for suckering me with the oldest trick in the book: sweet talking me to such a level of assurance that I signed on the dotted line the second they handed me the pen and presented me with the contract.
“Eight to 10 days” ... I took his word for it. But here's what is actually written in the paper work:
General Delivery Schedule:
We guarantee delivery within 14 business days.
*Delivery schedule begins from the first date you will be ready to accept your shipment.
I moved from San Jose to Baltimore for a job, after being 6 mos. out of work. I arrived on Dec. 26, not knowing a single soul in the snow-buried city. A lifelong Californian. So I already had enough to deal with.
Well, given the average delivery range of eight to 10 days—but it can take up to 14 days, the move specialist cautioned—he advised that we schedule the movers to come pack up my things and take them away on Dec. 15. That should allow plenty of time for my stuff to arrive around the time I do.
Unfortunately, two mitigating factors sabotaged this well-thought-out plan:
1) Even though they took everything away Dec. 15, a full week went by before they hit the road with it. In other words, they wasted 7 days right off the bat—just sitting on my stuff instead of beginning the delivery. Meanwhile, I was at home in an empty room, sleeping on an inflatable pool mat.
2) Per the paper work quoted above, the clock on the 14-day delivery window didn't begin anyway until Dec. 27 ... "There are up to 14 business days from the mentioned date for delivery," stated the actual contract that was presented to me.
But that's NOT what the moving specialist told me all along. From the start, it was "8 to 10 days," with a maximum of 14 ... That's why I agreed to the Dec. 15 pick up, even though it would mean being without my stuff for more than 10 days! I lived out of a suitcase all Christmas week. But I felt like that was a small price to pay because I'd be giving them enough time to have my stuff in Baltimore when I get there.
So I went and signed the minute they whipped out the contract. But in my defense, I should properly set the scene to give this critical moment context: The supervisor of the moving crew who came out on Dec. 15 didn't present me with the contract until about half to two-thirds of my stuff had been packed up and put in their truck. So, even if I had gone against my trusting instincts and scrutinized the wording of the contract, would I have told them: "Whoa, hold on guys! I'm not OK with this ... Bring back everything you have just spent the last hour wrapping and boxing up!"
Don't think so.
Another smart move on their part: They placed that crucial clause after a bunch of routine disclaimers that required nothing more than my initials. “OK, so we need you to initial here, here, here, here ...” the supervisor went on as his crew hauled off the last of my things. So I scribbled my way through them in mental auto-pilot mode.
So, there’s the 50 percent they got right: being vague enough in the beginning with their verbal pitch to hook me in—and then acing both the timing of the presentation of the contract, and putting the clause in an inconspicuous place. So I ended up initialing that strategically embedded clause and gave them free reign at that point to take their sweet time once they drove off with all my stuff.
One last note: When they finally did arrive on Jan. 3, both my vacuum and my fancy wireless printer were broken.
So let's review: pick up was Dec.15; 14 days for delivery = Dec. 29; I arrive Dec. 26; they arrive and dump everything on me the eve before my first day at work after 6 mos. being jobless. Got just 3 hrs. sleep.
Lightning Van Lines: Fail!
