I just spent the last twenty or so minutes cleaning up the bug problem in three rows of our fiction and non-fiction section. The two pages working today (Jess and Nicole) cornered me in the back room, telling me they had a "little problem" that needed fixing. So, I was snagged into doing bug duty. Previously, I was helping a lady find old tax forms online, so you can see how my duties vary.
Bug duty involved scooping up little black bugs and larger brown bugs (no, I did not stop to identify the exact type of bug they were) onto pieces of paper and smushing them if necessary. The girls apparently hate all types of bugs and wouldn't risk being near ten feet of them, let alone bring the trash bin closer to me for easier disposal. Just the sight of dead bugs in the trash was enough to turn them green.
The one thing I was not about to touch was the very much alive Daddy-Long-Legs that was waving its very long legs at me in anger?hurt?frustration?. I let Terri take care of it. She's good at picking them up by a leg and throwing them outside. And these ones are huge.
My reward at the end of this: chocolate.
"You turned my brother into a bug, and now he's dead!" I forget which movie that is from, but, hilarious.