I work for a telephone service that takes overflow calls from a pest control company.

Swedish authorities do not give out weapon licenses willy-nilly. To own a gun, you are supposed to have a proper license. Those are usually issued to people who hunt or use their guns for sport shooting. You need to store your gun in a secured place like a locked safe to follow the law. There are all kinds of regulations in place, and if someone has a loaded gun in either a public or a private place, that’s a HUGE cause for concern.

Me: “Welcome to [Extermination Company]!”

Customer: “Hi, I’ve got a huge sewer rat in my house. Can you help me?”

Me: “Sure, I need some contact details and your insurance information, please.”

Customer: “What will you be doing when you come? I’ve tried catching it but…”

Me: “What have you been doing so far, then?”

I expect an answer like, “I set a trap,” or, “I stood on a chair and flailed for a while.”

Customer: “I tried to shoot it.”

Me: “You did what?”

Customer: “Well, I have this old shotgun, so I went down into the cellar and tried to kill it, but it ran away.”

Me: *A little scared* “Um… all right…”

Customer: “So, how soon can you have someone over?”

Me: “If you promise to put the gun away safely, I’ll send a technician right away.”

There is a realtor who has service with our pest control company and occasionally orders inspections through us for her clients. She is rude, entitled, and snooty, and none of us can stand her. Oftentimes she will call in and demand things that we can’t provide, often legally speaking, like information about other people’s accounts. For a while, we would just tell her no and hang up, but now we’ve all made a point to waste her time as much as she wastes ours.

Realtor: “Hi. I’m calling about a mutual client of ours, [Client].”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Realtor: “When was the last time you serviced his lawn?”

Me: “Do you pay for his lawn service?”

Realtor: *Indignant* “No!”

Me: “Then, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.”

Realtor: *Huffing* “Look, he’s got lots of little purple flowers in his yard and I just want to know what you’re going to do about it!”

What she’s describing is a common weed in this part of Florida, colloquially called “Florida snow.” I’ve been almost manically pleasant with her up to this point, but now I really dial up the innocent sweetness in my voice.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not familiar with your client’s landscaping situation or preferences. I would hate to send someone out and have them ruin his yard.”

Realtor: *Screeching* “Well, you’re no help at all!”

Then, she hung up. She’s right, though; we definitely can’t help her at all. Stop calling.

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?”

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.

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!”