An Embarrassing Game Of Cat And Mouse

, , , , , | Right | October 19, 2020

I fumble a coin in my kitchen and it rolls under the stove. Shining my flashlight under the stove to find it, I’m mortified to see the body of a mouse, staring glassy-eyed back at me. I call a pest control company and the exterminator arrives the next morning.

Exterminator: “’ll just check under your stove, get rid of the dead rodent, and check for signs of any current infestation.”

The exterminator looks under the stove.

Me: “Thank you. I try to keep things clean, and I worry about my little boy crawling around on the floor when there’s—”

Exterminator: “Sir?”

I’m surprised at being interrupted.

Me: “Yes?”

Exterminator: “Here’s your mouse.”

He holds up a little cat toy — a cloth mouse, complete with shiny little plastic eyes.

Me: “How much do I owe you for the trip? And how much extra to never, ever, speak of this again?”

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This Is How The Rich Stay Rich

, , , , , | Legal | August 13, 2020

A coworker of mine relayed this story to me when he was doing pest control in an area where the homes were spaced very far apart and were often summer homes for the rich and affluent, so they sat empty for many months of the year.

He arrived at the summer home of a customer and began working around the exterior. He noticed an extension cord plugged into one of the exterior outlets and trailing off into the distance. He followed the cord, which attached to another cord, then another, and another, for the minutes it took to reach the next house over, where it became apparent the cords were leading. I forget the exact distance, but I believe it was somewhere in the realm of two miles between the houses.

Naturally, he called the customer and innocently inquired if they had given their neighbor permission to leach their power while they were away.

The customer promptly called the local police. Not sure what came of that, but a while later my coworker received a gift basket and thank-you card from the customer.

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Word On The Street

, , , , | Right | August 10, 2020

A customer has ants in his house and calls in for service.

Customer: “So, when can you get someone out here?”

Me: “Can I place you on a brief hold so I can check with the tech?”

Customer: “Sure.”

I call the tech and it turns out that he’s on the customer’s street waiting on another appointment where the owner hasn’t shown up yet.

Me: “Well, sir, he’s actually on your street now, so he’s on his way.”

Customer: *Chuckling* “What? You can’t do better than that?”

Me: “Sorry, sir. Next time, call fifteen minutes ago.”

Customer: *Laughing* “I’ll do that, then! Thanks for your help!”

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We Know When You Don’t Know

, , , , | Right | July 23, 2020

I’m training a new person. We only schedule current clients but try to help other people that accidentally get to us the best we can.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want to know your pricing on general pest control.”

Me: “Well, I’m not familiar with our pricing, but if I can take your name and number, I can have an inspector give you a call as soon as they are in.”

Customer: *Scoffs* “No, thank you, I think I will deal with people who know what they are doing.” *Hangs up*

Me: *After turning to trainee* “Funny thing about that, the only way people can get to us is by selecting the option that they are a current customer, which he clearly wasn’t. So, the person who wants to only deal with people who knows what they are doing… doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Trainee: “So we dodged a bullet there?”

Me: “Oh, yeah! Moving on…” 

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Bizarre Businessman, Interrupted

, , , , | Working | June 2, 2020

I’m an admin for a pest control company and am manning the office alone as my manager has stepped out for a morning meeting with some of the other local businesses to network. An older — bordering on elderly — man comes in and immediately starts speaking while still walking up to my desk. Bear in mind, I have shortened the conversation considerably.

Man: “So, why are you called [Pest Control Company]?”

Me: *Cheerily* “We’re named after our founder!”

The man starts fiddling with the various business cards and adverts on the counter in front of my desk, which I don’t pay too much mind to as they’re there to be looked at or touched, but he does continue doing so for the entire exchange. The man picks up the business card for our inspector with a distinctly male name; I am visibly female.

Man: “Is this your card?”

He continues speaking without letting me answer.

Man: “I’m starting a new business. It’s [Business Name containing “tech” which he says, then spells, and then gives the justification for] and I’m looking for some contacts that I can rely on when I need them. I know my name says, ‘tech,’ but I do more than that.”

He never elaborates on this.

Me: “That’s our inspector’s card. Here is the manager’s card.”

The man immediately speaks over me before I can ask any questions about his business.

Man: “And your name?”

I give it and he writes it down on the card.

Man: “I’m very allergic and sensitive to a lot of things. Do you have any products that are less harsh and won’t cause a reaction? What do you do for people like me?”

Me: “Have you added your name to the Chemical Sensitivity Registry? We are required by law to inform—”

Man: “I wasn’t done talking. People can buy all sorts of things from the store, but I’m sure you have stronger stuff for things like bedbugs and less harsh stuff for other bugs. Do you have anything that won’t cause a reaction?”

Me: “I wouldn’t trust—”

Man: “You wouldn’t trust [Pest Control Company]?”

Me: “No, sir, if you would let me finish, I wouldn’t trust any company that tells you they can do what you’re asking. There is no way to guarantee that no one will have a reaction to something. We can only take precautions, such as the Registry.”

Man: “Hold on, hold on. Do you have a Kleenex or something?”

I give him one.

Man: “I’m just nervous and my blood pressure got too high. I lived in [City a few cities north of here] in a gated community that was mostly Canadians, and you know, they can only be here 182 days of the year, so they would put down chemicals that are way too harsh for the environment to keep the bugs and weeds away while they’re gone. What would you, as an environmentalist, do to stop them?”

I am now thoroughly done.

Me: “Are you asking me as a person or me speaking on behalf of [Pest Control Company]?”

Man: “You, as the environmentally conscious person you are.”

Me: “You said it was a gated community, so there is likely an HOA; I would go through—”

Man: “But what would you do personally to make them stop?”

I refuse to rise to whatever bait he’s trying to get me with.

Me: “As I was saying, before you interrupted me, I would contact the HOA and, barring that, I would go through the appropriate legal channels or local environmental agency to address the issue.”

He’s now messing with the Kleenex.

Man: “One second, you’re making me so nervous. So, what do you think is the best way to address the drug problem in America? How would you go about stopping it?”

The look on my face must be answer enough, since I stopped smiling and dropped all cheer from my voice some time ago.

Man: “Right, right, I can tell you want me to leave, so I’ll go. You didn’t say it, but I can tell.”

He continued rambling all the way out the door. The man never left his name or his own card, just his convoluted business name. My manager returned not a minute later and I informed him of the crazy-person bullet he had just dodged and gave him the business name to avoid, should it ever happen to pop up.

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