We were working in the warehouse when the unmistakable odor of something dead began to waft. The rising heat of the late spring day amplified the odor until something had to be done. We began searching for the source and found the offender. Underneath a computer desk and deep inside a commercial rat trap, a rat had met his maker and departed to that cheese moon in the night sky.

A commercial rat trap looks like a thick pizza box cut in half and glued to a thin cinder-block base. It can be opened, emptied and re-baited. But we were not pest control people. In fact, one of my co-workers thought it was a computer modem. How many modems come with a cinder-block? So we decided to pitch the whole thing into the dumpster outside.

Somehow, I got elected to do the dirty deed. I crawled under the desk and when I got close, my eyes started watering. The smell was rolling out like heatwaves on a Mississippi highway in August. I held the trap in one hand next to my side. I would have held it out further but the cinder-block made the darn thing heavy.

I stood up with the trap and everyone backed away like I was carrying a bio-weapon in a fragile glass case. Where was Jack Bauer when I really needed him? Couldn’t I at least get a Tyvek suit and firefighters mask? I proceeded to the garage door. No one followed. As far as they were concerned, the crisis was over. But not for me.

The instant I passed the threshold from warehouse floor to outside dock, I heard “Hello?” I glanced around but saw no one. I took two more steps and again “Hello?” This time I knew I had heard a voice. It seemed to come from the rat trap itself.

Have you seen those TV commercials for monitored home security services. The burglar breaks a window and almost instantly an alarm sounds and the phone rings with someone asking if you are okay. This was the image playing inside my head as I slowly lifted the rat trap toward my face. My inner voice was saying,”The pest control folks have some sort of movement device and speaker system that lets them monitor their traps (and the workers who service them). They have really evolved, technologically speaking.”

By now the trap is inches away from my lips AND nose…oh, it was baaaad. I exhaled just enough to say “Hello?” while simultaneously having thoughts of an enraged rat busting through the opening using my face as an off-ramp when the voice said, “Blane?”

An involuntary contraction of my spincther muscle caused a shuffle motion in my legs, the kind you get when you are found with your hand in the cookie jar. You’ve seen it haven’t you? The bottom half  of you tries to run but the top half is sorta stuck there. I thought, how in the world do they know my name? Then I remembered that clipped to my shirt, was a magnetic employee badge. I’m so proud of that badge because it lets me open doors that company big shots can’t open. I also use it to clock in and the clock always flashes your name and time stamp.

“They must be reading my name badge!” Man, these pest control people are a lot more advanced than I give them credit. So, prompted by hearing my name again, I said “Yes.” The voice said, “Blane, it’s Deanna (my wife)! I knew in an instant, no, no, it was less than an instant what was really going on. Somehow, while my cell phone was in my pant pocket, and without touching it, I had speed dialed my wife and turned on the speaker.

I did what any self respecting man would do, I sheepishly looked around to see who saw me. Thankfully no one was around. I quickly lowered the trap and dug the cell phone from my pocket. We both had a hearty laugh for a good long time. I finally pitched the trap and went to the break area to gargle some soda.

Moral of the story: Make sure you buy the right modem or you may end up talking to a rat.