Everything in New York City is a big spectacle, especially Midtown. During my first week of flying solo, as a commercial technician, I learned pests can become a Hell show if left unchecked. Take my first visit to a restaurant on 44th. I never killed so many filth flies in my life, which are flying insects that look similar to fruit flies but darker. The small cloud I confronted at the bar was so thick, that I got some in my eyes and swallowed some, too. It seemed that a sorry ass technician had let the spot go haywire. I was there to save the day. Actually, it was like 5:30 in the morning, and there was no one from management, only a Spanish fella who raised his hand acknowledging my presence after my third firm knock on the window. At first I thought he was ignoring me, but later realized that my knocks easily could have blended in with the upbeat Spanish music they were listening to.
As they worked sweeping and mopping at the opposite end of the hall, I tried my best to spit out the winged fellas currently wrapped up in my sinus fluids. At this stage of infestation, protocol recommends a “knock down”, which means to spray the hell out of them. As I soaked the air expecting the flies to scatter, they were literally joyfully bathing in it. Never seen it in my life. Even the leading brand at the local store should’ve made them squirm. My stuff was commercial, I tell you. A commercial piece of crap. I panicked, I was 30 minutes into the one hour allowed for this account, potentially throwing my entire day off. I didn’t want these ‘pendejas’ getting the best out of me and my thorough nature drove me to plan B: manual enforcement.
Around that time, I bought an electrical racquet which killed any flying bugs that touched the metal net in the center. The bar was partially lit up, enhancing the effect as the flies hit the racquet. It looked like the Fourth of July fireworks near the Hudson River. The racquet sparkled as I struck about 12 of them at a time. I must admit my instant gratification was at its highest. I was knocking them down to the beat of the ranchera song in the background. I managed to reduce the amount of flies to a couple that got the message, escaping to the fans high above.
I spent about an hour and a half total, whacking flies plus servicing the rest of the account. I knew I had to explain why I took an extra 30 minutes at this spot. I was pissed at the technician to which the account used to belong, at the useless product that management bought, but above all, after killing all those flies, I felt that relief one feels at a urinal after breaking the seal.
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