I waited around all afternoon yesterday for the stupid new exterminator who called to say he was coming and then never showed up. He came this morning instead, and I was in short pajamas and couldn't find a robe. Picture a lavender stretchy knit shopping bag stuffed with cantaloupes and loose marshmallows. Serves him right.
We have to break in a new bug-killing moron every other month or so now. Oddly, people don't seem to stay long in a low-paid, no status job dealing with roaches and fleas and dirty houses and vicious dogs and middle-aged fat women in shorty pajamas. What happened to your work ethic, youth of today, you lazy fucks?
For years we had the same guy, Dirk, a comically vain and officious little man who touched up his evangelist hair every time he walked by a mirror. You could tell he thought his uniform conferred great authority, and he was always dropping references to his "college days" at Orkin University. I'm not kidding. He loved to show off his knowledge of roach taxonomy and habitat, droning on at length about Smoky browns and Germans, and once bragged that he was a natural at extermination. Oh, how we laughed at him after every visit, I recall bitterly, now that he has been promoted to a desk job and I face an endless parade of new D'Orkins who ARE NOT NATURALS AND DO NOT CARE, like
Tyree, who was forever implying that I was hungover or that I'd be "partying tonight" because there was a visible bottle of bourbon in my kitchen, although I don't drink;
That one guy, who could treat the main house, the guesthouse, and the yard in less than ten minutes -- I didn't like him much, but the roaches thrived under his care;
Linda, whom my dog took for a man and who made me vaguely uncomfortable because I was never sure if she was coming on to me or was just one of those people who aren't aware of personal space; and,
Nervous Laughter Guy, who never even saw me in my clingy lavender pajamas, so I don't know why he was so terrified.
Oh Dirk, please come back! Let's reminisce about college again.
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A bright new star joins the blogging firmament!
ReplyDeleteEeeeee! My first comment!
ReplyDeleteI remember Dirk. It's sad that he's wasting his talent like that. Maybe one of these days, when he least expects it, he'll encounter a roach and yearn to relive his glory days. Try dropping a box of them off at his house.
ReplyDeleteSadly, he lives in Hot Springs, too far away for me to personally deliver it. Does FTD offer a Cheery Box O' Roaches?
ReplyDeleteCan you make a tiny pair of lavender shorty pajamas for a cockroach? I'll bet Dirk would get a huge kick out of that.
ReplyDeleteNooooo, Dirk's hair is not the only thing evangelical about him. He walks with the Lord, Cynthia.
ReplyDeleteDirk's Crusade: Killing Cockroaches for Christ.
ReplyDeleteThy fog and thy bait, they comforteth me.
ReplyDeleteSurely vikane and methyl bromide will follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in a pest-free house forever.
ReplyDeleteI hate to cast aspersions on those Nice Orkin Folks, but I think Dirk carried some tales back to the shop IYKWIM. Now everybody wants to have a slice of your country pie!
ReplyDeleteAAAAAAAAGH! Now you owe me a topic suggestion for my next post, because I've been sitting here dithering for hours.
ReplyDelete