Pest Invasion

It all started on one of those nights when I was on after-hours call duty—a time when you brace for anything. Locked-out tenants? Sure. Burst pipes? Bring it on. But what I wasn’t prepared for was... this.

Around 9 p.m., the phone rang. I answered, and a tenant began speaking in very broken English. She was clearly panicked, saying something about a "pest invasion" in her unit. My mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. Were bedbugs staging a rebellion? Had cockroaches decided to throw a housewarming party?

I tried to keep my voice calm. "What kind of pests are we talking about?"

She paused for a moment, then said, "I don’t know name... but they look like ants... with wings."

Flying ants. Okay, not the end of the world, but still not great. I offered to come take a look, but she quickly cut me off with, "No. I kill it."
Oh, well, problem solved! Or so I thought.

"How many did you see?" I asked, picturing an apartment overrun by a swarm.
"Just one."

Wait. One? One single flying ant qualifies as an "invasion"? I was so confused I didn’t even know how to respond. But, maintaining my professional tone, I reassured her to keep an eye out and call me immediately if she noticed more.

Fast forward to the next morning. I was in the office with my coworker when the phone rang again. It was the same tenant, her voice full of panic.
"There is another one!"

At this point, I figured I’d better investigate. My coworker and I grabbed our things and headed to her unit, ready to uncover the source of this major infestation.

When we arrived, I did a full sweep of the apartment. Every corner, every crevice, even the balcony got a thorough check. It was a nice sunny day, and there was a big tree providing shade near her balcony. Maybe the pests had taken up residence there? But despite my best efforts, I found... absolutely nothing.

Meanwhile, my coworker decided to dig deeper. "Can you describe them again?" she asked.

The tenant repeated patiently, "They are like ants... but with wings."

Still no luck. My coworker pressed further. "Do they fly?"

The tenant hesitated, then shrugged. "I don’t know. But I can find a picture on the internet."
"Great idea!" I said, eager for any clue that could shed light on this mysterious invader.

A minute later, she proudly held up her phone. "See? It looks like this!"

My coworker leaned in first, then froze, her face turning red as she desperately tried not to burst out laughing. Curious, I stepped closer to see what had her so rattled.

It was a caterpillar.

Not an ant. Not a flying insect. A harmless, fuzzy, crawling caterpillar.

I blinked at the screen, trying to process what I was seeing. "Okay," I managed to say, swallowing the laughter bubbling up inside me. "Call us if you see any more." Then, without missing a beat, I headed straight for the door.

The moment we were in the hallway, my coworker and I lost it. Tears streaming, we laughed so hard I had to lean against the wall to catch my breath. "Ants with wings?!" my coworker wheezed. "It’s a caterpillar!"

We must have laughed for five solid minutes. It turns out the pest invasion was nothing more than a couple of confused caterpillars looking for a new home.

Lesson learned: In building management, things are rarely what they seem—and sometimes, the best pest control is a good sense of humor! 😊