Some genius at my removal company decided to put a solid lump of agate (a book end) on top of a delicate lampshade. Needless to say the lampshade didn't survive the move. Then came the problem of finding a quote to repair or replace an antique lampshade when working against the clock, which resulted in pretty much having to accept the removal company's standard amount because I couldn't find a lamp expert within 100 miles of our new house.
At least they didn't make any wild claims that it was broken when they packed it.
The other annoyance was my own fault. I packed some stuff that was meant to go in the trash, and concluded through its absence that some of what I wanted to pack ended up in the trash by mistake.
I hate moving. Since I first got my own place, as opposed to renting a room in a shared apartment, I've moved exactly twice. If the next time I move is because I'm carried out of my house in a box that will suit me just fine.