[Technically Speaking] Stranger things have happened!

This article is written with two objectives. First, to recount some of the lighthearted events that have occurred in my years working in pest management, hopefully reminding each of you what fun our work can be and that sometimes we need to think on our feet. The second objective is to recount some events that are thought provoking and remind us that as pest management professionals, our job is to ferret out answers to some perplexing pest management problems.

FUN IN OUR WORK! As many of you are aware, I spent the first 22 years of my adult life as a United States Army entomologist after a four-year stint as a medical supply officer. Other than training, my first assignment was with the USA Environmental Hygiene Agency Regional Division South in Atlanta. One of our main responsibilities was to perform resistance testing of cockroaches and mosquitoes.

During a visit to Fort McClellan, Ala., (at that time primarily a training facility for enlisted women) I (a captain) was collecting cockroaches where there were significant resistance problems. At one point I was on my hands and knees in the women’s latrine when a young recruit came in to use the latrine and, totally startled, asked, “Is this what Captains in the Army do?” Equally startled I responded, “That’s what this Captain does.” After this, she questioned whether it was appropriate for her to even be talking to me (technically it wasn’t). I saw the opportunity for us both to save face and told her I wouldn’t tell if she didn’t.

Shortly after this, another incident occurred at Ft. Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, while doing mosquito surveillance. On this occasion, I was traveling with a female preventive medicine specialist and, as was typically the situation, we were using an unmarked GSA car. One evening after we set out mosquito light traps along a creek, we exited the woods wearing civilian clothes and by our car waiting to greet us were two military police. And their obvious question was, “What were you doing in there?” After showing our IDs and explaining what we were doing — their response was as expected, “Right!” Perhaps they believed us — they never went to check our story.

MORE THOUGHT PROVOKING. Many years ago when I was at NPMA, we did several live radio shows and most offered listeners the opportunity to call in and ask questions. One morning a woman called in and described an insect she wanted me to identify. Her description: “It looks like a shrimp, it has a long tail and it can jump.” I think what threw me off was the “shrimp” comment. We continued to banter back and forth with questions and answers, getting nowhere. Finally, I told her that if she could send me a sample I would be happy to identify her bug and give her a call. Five minutes later, another woman called and said, “You idiot (she didn’t actually say that, but it felt like she did), it’s a cricket.” I learned a valuable lesson — it’s difficult to identify insects over the phone.

Several years ago, our weekend emergency service supervisor took a call from a frantic customer who had a hole in her wall with a “long skinny snake” going in and out. Well, this sounded strange and we racked our brains trying to figure out what it could be. We had pretty much concluded it wasn’t a snake — they don’t make holes in walls and they don’t go rapidly in and out of a hole. He took the only reasonable course of action and cut a hole in the wall and, to his surprise, let a woodpecker out that had fallen into the wall void. The bird had poked a hole in the wall and was thrusting its tongue in and out while trying to escape. This was a lot different find than the usual kitten or squirrel in the wall, and reminds us that you never know what you’ll find when you get there.

WHO’S THE BOSS? I have recounted this next story many times, but because it contains several lessons learned it is worth repeating. The story begins with a home-owner, Bob, calling our firm regarding drain flies in the basement of his two-story house. First, we did our inspection and determined that they were, in fact, drain flies and that it was a longstanding problem. Then, we began to rule out the places the flies could be coming from: evaporation pan on the air handler, sump pump, dry floor drains, bathroom shower, sink, and toilet — no breeding sites to be found. Next, we inspected the exterior — the sewer, storm drains and some old wood piles, branches and wet leaves under a deck area. The latter was an area of concern. Despite removing all this debris the problem persisted.

At this point we reinspected the basement around the expansion joint and lo and behold we found a few gaps where the flies were emerging. Bob, always looking for the cheap way to fix his problem, elected caulking the joints to stop the problem — but the flies kept coming. Bob then turned on his persuasive powers and begged me to do what I knew would not work — drill and treat the floor with an IGR and termiticide. To my chagrin, what I already knew would happen occurred — while somewhat abated, the flies kept coming.

Still unwilling to crack the slab and find the leak, Bob hired a plumber to videotape the drain and $900 later he knew the only remaining option was to crack the slab. Bob hired a plumber to crack the slab, find the leak and repair the problem. But, of course as Bob’s luck would have it, Bob’s basement slab (unbeknownst to him) was built on piers and there was significant settling under the slab so when the slab was cracked entire sections of the floor collapsed.
The good news was they found the broken pipe and repaired it and the basement floor for $35,000. But Bob didn’t want to pay to remove the contaminated soil — besides the plumber told him throwing lime on the mess would kill the fly larvae. I assured him it wouldn’t and that the amount to remove all the sludge was worth it — but not to Bob. Once again he turned on his persuasive powers and begged me to do what I knew would not work — treat the sludge with an IGR and a residual insecticide and run fans until it dried out.

Several months after the slab was repaired I received the inevitable call from Bob. “They’re back,” he said. Being somewhat merciful I didn’t say, “I told you so.” Instead I explained, “I don’t make house calls.” Probably the most important lesson to be taken from this is: don’t let customers convince you to do something you know won’t work — they are paying for your professional opinion; give it to them, whether they like it or not and stick to it.

I’m sure that stranger things have happened to all of you — the most important thing is that we learn from these experiences.

The author is president of Innovative Pest Management, Brookeville, Md.