It’s not what you know; it’s what you grow.

This is an older story, but it came up the other day and I felt it had to be shared. Hopefully I’m not being like Jude Law’s character in I Heart Huckabees with his Shania, tuna fish story.

Here's a teaser to spark your interest.

While I was going to school, I spent two summers working as a pest control technician for Orkin. There’s actually a lot of blog-worthy experiences that came out of that job, but today I want to focus on a social phenomenon I like to call “The Mustache Factor.”

After completing my five-day training course at “Orkin University,” I was feeling pretty confident. After all, I graduated valedictorian of my training class—I even have the plastic coffee mug to prove it…errr, at least I did until I lost it.

Anyway, when I first started servicing accounts, I noticed, to my dismay, that the homeowners didn’t seem to trust me. They would follow me around their houses, watching me like a hawk and peppering me with questions about what I was doing:

• Homeowner: “Are you sure you can put that there?”
• Me: “Yes”
• Homeowner: “Is that safe for my kids?”
• Me: Yes.
• Homeowner: "Are you sure?"
  
• Me: “Yes, I’m sure. I was valedictorian of my training class.”
• Homeowner: “What chemicals are you using?”
• Me: “The right ones”
• Homeowner: “How long have you been doing this?”
• Me: “Did I mention I was the best in my training? I got a friggin’ coffee mug with the Orkin Dude on it. Lay off!”
• And so on.

At first I just chalked it up to being new. “I’m not exuding confidence.” I thought. But after a month or two, it was still happening. Then, one day I had an epiphany. I was at the workers’ comp doctor’s office for a mandatory drug test. (For all of my friends that work in cushy offices/cubicles, this is a fairly common occurrence in blue-collar jobs—especially those that involve driving a company vehicle.)

As I sat in the waiting room looking at all the other blue-collar workers, it was like going back to my childhood days watching the Sesame Street segment “One of these things is not like the others.” The painters were in their paint stained-overalls, the contractors had Nextels and tape measures on their belts, the mechanics had grease-stained hands and their names on their shirts, and the landscapers had grass-stained shoes. I had my white Orkin shirt and was feeling pretty good about myself because I had my flashlight and mirror-stick on my belt, but then I noticed my failing.

As I looked around the room, every single other guy in there had a mustache. It was incredible. I realized I was missing a key status symbol for my line of work. I thought about the other guys who worked out of my Orkin office. Yep, they all had mustaches too. In fact, even the lone female pest control tech that worked there had a bit of a mustache.

Why didn’t my training cover this? Dr. Bug (as we so fondly called our our Orkin U instructor) had failed me.

I set out to correct my faux pas and immediately started growing a mustache…three weeks later I had something that vaguely resembled one.

I know this might be hard to believe, but as soon as I had a mustache all the questions stopped. People no longer wanted to know if this was just a summer job; they didn’t ask how long I’d been doing it, or even follow me around their house. I just went in, did my job and left. It was awesome!

Could it have been coincidence? No way! Just to be certain, my buddy (who I’d convinced to go to Florida and spray bugs with me) grew a mustache too. The results were almost exactly the same.

A few weeks later, my then girlfriend and now wife, told me how ugly I was with a mustache and vowed to stop kissing me unless I shaved. Off came the mustache and away went the trust. I couldn’t believe it. To this day, my buddy and I still talk about “ Mustache Power.” I even think it has something to do with why Adolf Hitler and Saddam Hussein managed to get so many followers.

What do you think?

Note: If you visit www.orkin.com, the guy on their home page is obviously not a real Orkin man. I would guess that he’s a paid model, but I can’t imagine anyone paying that guy to model. He’s most likely someone on their website design team that just dressed up for that picture so they’d have something to put on the site.

The Tools of the trade.

The downfall of the 'stache.

Unwritten Code of Conduct or Secret Society?

Since purchasing my scooter, Hidalgo, almost a year ago, I’ve taken notice of something that seems a little odd to me. As I pass the drivers of other scooters and motorcycles on the road, they often let go of the left hand grip, drop their left hand down to the side, and then do kind of a two-finger wave/salute thingy with that hand.

At first I just thought it was just one or two people waving in a weird way, but then, when it happened three times in one drive home, I started to take notice. Sure enough, it happened pretty often, and it wasn’t just the same one or two people doing it. Soon I started testing out initiating the unique wave myself. The majority of the time, the other riders will return the signal.

So my question is: Is this just some unwritten motorcycle wave?

Shortly after getting my driver's license, I noticed that when you’re driving in your car on a canyon road, a dirt road, or just a road that is generally in the middle of nowhere, nearly everyone you pass will wave at you like it's just understood that you will wave back. Is what I'm noticing now the same type of thing but for motorcycles and scooters everywhere?

The remote location wave makes sense to me. Afterall, if you're in a remote location, you want to be friendly because if you break down, that guy you waved at earlier might pass you and you want him to be friendly back. But what is the motivation for the two finger motorcycle wave?

Did it originate with motorcycle gangs and then just spread to everyone from there? Or does it go deeper? Is it some sort of secret society of two wheeled motorists and they’re checking to see if I’m a member? If so, where does this society hold meetings? Is the initiation painful? What benefits do I get? Someone please help! I need answers.

Also scooter related, I've been wondering what the public opinion is on “splitting lanes” when riding a scooter or motorcycle in a traffic jam or slow traffic. What do you think? Acceptable or rude? (No comments about dangerousness please. I don't care about that. I know it's dangerous, but is it also poor form?)

Call Me Buminicious (it might not be as powerful a begining as "Call me Ishmael", but it's a way better story than Moby Dick)

My little sister recently told me a story that’s too good not to be shared. Though difficult to believe, she swears it is true. You’ll have to judge for yourself.

My sister has friend who was doing her student teaching somewhere in the Deep South. On the first day of her kindergarten class, she was calling role and asked the students to let her know if they wanted to be called something other than what the role showed.

When she called one little boy’s name, he responded in a thick southern accent saying, “Call me by my initials.” Now in order for this story to work at all in written form, you have to imagine what that would sound like in thick southern drawl. It must have been something closer to “Cawl me buh muh ‘nicials.”

The teacher, unable to understand his words, asked the boy to repeat himself. “Cawl me buh muh ‘nicials” the boy said again.

“Buminicious?” the teacher asked, confused?

“Buh muh ‘nicials,” the boy corrected.

“Well okay then Buminicious.” And with that, incredible as it sounds, the teacher made a note on her roll that the boy’s name was Buminicious… and she called him that for the rest of the term.

The five-year-old boy was obviously too bashful to correct his teacher, but can you imagine the ridicule he must have faced on the playground? My brother was quick to point out that Bumincious is only one letter away from Bumilicious. The poor kid was almost Destiny Child’s next hit song.

Now the best part of the story…

How did the teacher finally come to realize her mistake? Well, at the end of the term she had parent-teacher conferences with the parents of all the children. When this boy’s parents came in, the teacher kept saying things about Buminicious.

Imagine if you will: “Well, Buminicious is doing well in his coloring, but when it comes time to share, little Buminicious has a hard time.”

After a couple repetitions, the boy’s mother screwed up her face and asked, “What are you calling my son?”

“Buminicious.” Replied the teacher.

The mother became a bit angry. “And WHY are you calling my son Bumincious?” she asked, raising her voice in strong Southern fashion.

Now the teacher was nervous. “Well he told me to. The very first day of class when I was calling role he said, ‘call me Buminicious.’”

The mother thought about it for a few beats and quickly came to the truth. “He said, ‘Call me by my initials.’ We call him T.J.!” Ah man, how embarrassing!

That’s where the story ends, but it doesn’t have to be where the fun ends. After all, we now have a great new word we can use, and I propose that we make the most of it. Think of it—the possibilities are endless! Examples:

• Something cool happens; you say, “Whoa! That was buminicious!”
• Your significant other is looking hot; you say, “Wow, you’re looking buminicious today!”
• And so forth.

Get creative. Post other uses here so the rest of us can benefit from your creativity. Most importantly, enjoy!