I was minding my own business, creating reports for my boss, when from the corner of my eye, I noticed a small black spot moving quickly toward my hand. I jumped and saw that yes, my worst fear was confirmed, it was a spider. I quickly moved everything away from the spot and started slamming my mug against the speedy arachnid. Soon I realized I wasn't making a dent in the thing and the noise from my mug was echoing through the entire building. I put the mug down and made up my mind. I needed help. Off I ran to my boss's office. "Can you kill a spider for me?" I might have added "mommy" to the end of the sentence, because I felt like a small child. I was horrified to find I was shaking and sweating because of this 1/2 inch wide beast.
"Oh, I'll come kill it. Does it help do data runs? If it doesn't help with our work, it doesn't deserve to be here." She grabbed one of our publications and splat - it was dead. I thanked her profusely, but had the feeling she was laughing at me.
No longer able to sit at my desk in comfort, I performed a prolonged spider-check, bringing me back to the days of my youth. Every night I checked my room, every dark corner, every spec of the floor. I'm sure my dad remembers those days, with me screaming for him, even after he had gone to bed.
Often I spout out about how much I've changed since my school days. I'm not the same person I was back then. Yet, I still find myself asking the same timid question. "Can you come kill a spider for me?"