Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Pest Control

Today I had to wait around my apartment for the yearly spraying for pests. Living in a warm tropical climate, various insects are a common nuisance, so my landlord sends someone out once every spring to do a preventative spray. So I had to dip out early on lunch with Rocky to rush home to meet the pest guy.

And what a creeper! He comes in and I'm polite enough, but my apartment... is pretty trashed. I forgot how messy my room was, and quickly ran to stuff my laundry into various drawers, closet, anywhere. As the pest guy gets situated, he comments how "You were doing the same exact thing when I came here last year, sitting in the same exact spot with the laptop and the television, watching some silly soap opera." Which first and foremost, I don't watch silly soap operas. Ever. And second of all, creepy much?

I nervously chuckled and commented that this is the technological age of multitasking and kind of trailed off. I mean, what the fuck does he expect me to be doing. I had to sit around and wait for him to come to let him into my apartment. He's going to be spraying, so should I be baking a fresh batch of cookies to present to him? Should I have been in my full workout gear, sweating to the oldies? I don't think it's that ludicrous that I am relaxing on my couch with my computer and television, but maybe that's just me. Way to make an uncomfortable and creepy observation, Pest Control guy. Do you make comments like that to all of your customers, or just the young single women?

Then, he goes to spray in my spare room, which is jokingly referred to as my "office" or "art studio" but in actuality is just my junk room. And while in there quips, "This room hasn't changed much." What the fuck? Did he keep a dossier of my apartment to revisit in the most creepy manner possible? Save the personal comments and critiques for someone else. The entire process took less than ten minutes, but the ripple effects of emotional scarring will surely haunt me for much longer. As he left, his parting words were, "Okay, I'll leave you to your... laptop." I didn't even know how to respond. I sort of muttered a "Yeah, see ya." and promptly locked the door behind him.

It's one thing to attempt small talk to be personable, but everything that he said was borderlining on stalkeriffic and judgmental. Sorry I didn't tidy the place up for you, or engage in more stimulating activity for the ten minutes we see each other a year. That shit rubbed me the wrong way, and I'm so thankful that I won't have to deal with him for another year.

And strictly on principle, I plan to be in the same spot again next year, tooling around on my laptop and watching TV.

1 comment:

Samantha said...

Ugh. That is SO creepy. Maybe he has a fetish for your type -- or maybe he is such a complete loser that this is the only way that he could possibly pick up women.

You should totally booby-trap your room to set him up next time. Maybe put up a poster of the male butt.