Two Guys, One Truck, and a “Legal” Kidnapping: My Miami Move From Hell

This is the story of how two guys and one truck, and a suspicious amount of confidence kidnapped my belongings during a move in Miami Beach.

And yes, it sounds like a low-budget crime movie.

Unfortunately… it was my real life.

I used to work as a building manager in Brickell. Life was decent—until 2020 came swinging like a wrecking ball with great timing and zero empathy. The global health emergency hit hard, my income dropped drastically, and I went from having a respectable job (plus quality time with my kid) to hunting for part-time work like an immigrant… (the “immigrant” part is a joke, relax, internet).

Because of everything happening at the building, residents started moving out. And then the universe decided I wasn’t just a spectator:

I lost my job.
And I had to move too.

And just so we’re clear: I hate moving. Moving is basically a full-body argument with your own furniture, and your furniture always wins.

A resident recommended a moving company because doing it myself with my wife sounded like a punishment invented by ancient gods. So we contacted a company based in West Palm Beach.

The broker who answered was super polite, super helpful, super sweet—the kind of friendly you only hear from someone who’s about to politely steal your wallet and thank you for your trust.

He promised four movers, “professional service,” and said the job would be done in under four hours. In my head, I pictured myself sipping coffee while somebody else suffered for money. Beautiful.

So I paid 40% upfront, thinking I was purchasing peace, speed, and sanity.

Spoiler: I purchased the opposite.

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Moving Day: The Horror Begins

Moving day arrives. The truck pulls up… and I instantly notice something strange:

Only two guys showed up. Not four.

The “boss” was the driver—let’s call him a 270-pound freight train. His helper was tall, fit, and had a Spanish accent. You could tell he moved boxes for a living. (😂)

I asked the driver:

“Where are the other two? I was told four movers would come.”

He said:

“The company assigns routes. I just do my job: the estimate and the move.”

The estimate?

“The broker already gave me the estimate,” I told him. “I paid 40% upfront. What estimate are you talking about?”

And then he dropped the magic sentence:

“The broker’s estimate isn’t accurate. I have to redo it so it matches the contract… and so everything fits in the truck.”

Translation: “What you heard on the phone was bedtime poetry. This part is the documentary.”

I tried to stay calm.

“Fine. Let’s start.”

I signed his papers (yes, I know… I also want to time-travel and gently slap myself). They started loading, and that’s when the math started going crazy.

What was supposed to be 540 cubic feet suddenly became 780 cubic feet.

The rate was $4 per cubic feett. If it were 540, the total should’ve been $2,160. Since I already paid 40%, I should’ve owed $1,296.

But no.

Now the driver says the total is $3,120.

WOW.

That’s not a price adjustment. That’s a personality change.

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Hostage With Paperwork

I told him:

“I’m not paying that. Unload my stuff.”

He replied:

“You signed the contract. I can’t unload anything until you pay the full amount.”

And then… they closed the truck doors.

That’s when I realized this wasn’t a move.

This was a hostage situation with paperwork.

My belongings were inside the truck.
I was outside, broke, furious, and trapped.
And the ransom had a receipt.

I argued. I fought it. I tried everything. But the system was designed for pressure: contract + your life in a truck + “pay or suffer.”

In the end, I paid what they demanded so they would “release” my things.

It was one of the most horrible, frustrating experiences I’ve ever had. I felt completely scammed. And the worst part? My finances were already hurting… and thanks to those “movers,” they got even worse.

Moral of the story: If a move starts weird… it usually ends like a horror film.

And if you’re reading this while planning your own move, please do yourself a favor: ask the hard questions, demand the details in writing, and never underestimate how creative people can get when your entire life is locked inside a truck.