Was called to the warehouse to find the cause for a bad odor that was so pungent the pick line couldn’t operate. Some animal had died and was giving us its last hurrah, proving the early bird gets the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese.
The offender was found inside an industrial rat trap positioned underneath some computer tables. It was quickly determined that I (I don’t remember putting it to a vote) was to pitch the entire trap into the outside dumpster.
Commercial rat traps are somewhat heavy as they are glued to a cinderblock veneer base. Wishing desperately to hold the trap away from my body, I could not as one hand held the trap while the other held my nose and cleared my watering eyes.
As I passed through the plane of warehouse to outside dock, I heard “Hello?” I looked around. No one was near. Everyone was still deep in the warehouse avoiding the odor and laughing at my hapless plight.
I shrugged my shoulders thinking I must have imagined it when I heard it again… ”Hello?” This time I knew I had heard a voice and it seemed to be coming from the rat trap by my side. I started thinking these new rat traps must have movement sensors and some sort of cell phone device to deter theft.
I slowly moved the rat trap toward my face like a pair of binoculars and said, “Hello?” At the same time I imagined the dead rat’s angry children running out using my face as an off ramp to freedom. Suddenly the voice said “Blane, is that you?” This sent my mind reeling as I was amazed a rat trap could read my magnetic security badge clipped to my shirt. How else could they know my name? Did they have my employee number too?
The voice continued, “Blane, it’s your wife Deanna.” I figured out in a millisecond what had happened. Somehow, with my cell phone in my pant pocket, having never touched it, I had speed dialed my wife and activated the speaker. The phone was in my right pant pocket, the same side as the once dangling rat trap.
Well, I instinctively did what every person would do. I quickly yanked the rat trap from my face and looked to see who was watching. Thank goodness no one was around. I sat the trap down, retrieved the cell phone and my wife and I had a good laugh for several minutes. A few minutes later I pitched the rat trap, gargled with Coca-Cola, pretended nothing whatsoever had happened and was glad to see the pick line moving again. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.