Upon experiencing dire failure as a real estate agent, and having upon the table no other option to pay my bills as a newlywed than to cause bugs to expire for a living, I reluctantly accepted the position of Bug Man (that’s the scientific term). The extent of my immediate training was to point and shoot, and so I set off into the world of war against bugs.
Sony was the first great thing about being the Bug Man. He’d presumably been killing bugs since the invention of the fly swatter. He did it with a passion, too. “You think it’s a sin to hate something that God created so much?” he’d say as he doused an ant bed with enough poison to knock off Optimus Prime. Not the greatest representative when it came to customer service (Dave, our boss, had fired him about six times), he more than made up for with his skill as a bug serial killer. After exterminating every roach in an entire apartment building, and upon being questioned by the resident cat lady (who was likely responsible for housing half the aforementioned roach population) as to what to do about the roach carcasses in every corner of her home, with Dirty Harry undertones he simply replied, “We kill them, we don’t bury them. If it’s a funeral you want, you can call the mortuary.” Oh, Sonny, the things I learned.
Secondly, once I was trusted to fly solo, every longing I ever had for adventure was satisfied on the battlefield of man against bug. We were regularly referred to as heroes when we responded to the most urgent calls. Once I was paged to take down a hornet’s nest the size of Maine. Upon observation of most likely the largest hornet’s nest I have ever seen (as big as the average toilet), I called for backup. Together, my coworker and I created the world’s first Buzz Bomb (patent pending) . . . a blend of our top three pesticides, a spoonful of skunk urine, and a touch of gasoline, all wrapped in newspaper. I lit it up and placed it, dodging stingers like venomous paintballs.
To this day, largely attributed to my bug-killing profession, I have learned that one can find joy and meaning in any profession. I’m a future nurse, but I’ll always take my place among those heroic controllers of the creepy crawlies. Spray on! Oh, and check behind your toilet. Cheerio.