Ms. Tammy Elliott is the sole proprietor of The Right Call (817-907-3035). Her company focus is pest control and she
has been involved in the business of pest control for eighteen years. She was trained by a big name pest control company and has been happily killin' rats and roaches ever since.
One of her most remarkable tales occur ed while she was in training. She was fresh out of high school and soon to embark on one of the most spideriffic events of her cockroach ending career. As soon as she entered the crawl space, her focus was quickly drawn to the mother of all spiders at the end of the small space. Fear and dread consumed her young mind. She could think of little else as she cautiously worked her belly across the earth. It followed her as though she were caught up in the script of some bad horror flick. And to add even more happiness, she discovered that a spider had made its way
into her suit. I was somewhat comforted to hear that she was wearing a suit until, upon further examination, I found out that her suit was a set of overalls. Nevertheless, she completed her task and joyously exited the spider pavilion.
Upon exiting, she quickly told her trainer of the possible peril that loomed at the end of the light ray of her flashlight. As she was doing this, she happened to glance at the lens of her flashlight, only to discover a very small spider, just sitting there. Was he planning his day? Was he mentally preparing a grocery list? No. This little film star reject was mocking her!
Was it not enough that they followed her, got into her clothes and attached themselves to her work gear? No. Clearly, it was not.
I don't think that Ms. Elliott enjoyed that work day as much as she enjoyed the bat job for a Sprint tower. She did that job submerged to her Hazmat clad ankles in guano. The odor was one of the most glamorous and overpowering ammonia smells as is possible, without buying it in a bottle. It is 'Something that you don't ever forget,' she tells me.
My favorite part about the bat tale comes at the end when I ask her if she would ever do another bat job in the future? It has to be done in the evening while it's still hot outside, because that's when the bats leave for food. The smell burns your nasal hairs. And there's a possibility that a bat could return while your working, find out what you're doing and recruit other bats for a speedy revenge. Your muscles are aching and this particular job lasted eight hours.
Her response was an enthusiastic 'Absolutely!' She is undaunted and her attitude is one to be commended. She is a woman in a man's world and she is scoopin' poo 'till the cows come home.
Her filthiest day ever involves a rotting possum, his live friends and a gaggle of racoon's lounging in the attic. The heat could melt time itself, the insulation was ever present and the smell? Yummm...death on a rafter.
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