Why, Hello There, Lockjaw!

Today was a busy day of rearranging several displays on the showroom floor. At one point, a man bought a large tool chest and we replaced it with a plastic truck box that had defaulted (defaulted meaning he had gotten a loan on it and hadn't paid on it so we took it from him for breaching his contract). But before we could put the box out for sale, we had to empty it out.

At first, I couldn't figure out how to open the stupid thing. It was the kind that's long and low and has a flap on each end (like the one pictured to the left). At first, I thought it was locked. It seemed like a reasonable conclusion as there was a lock on each door and they wouldn't open. But when I asked where the key was, no one knew. After a bout of half-hearted searching, I decided to try and open the box one more time --and succeeded! No, it was not locked, and, no, there was no key. Oh, well.

Anyway, once I got the stupid box open, I discovered that the previous owner must have been a painter or handyman of sorts. It was filled--literally FILLED--with all kinds of fun and/or rusty tools. See below for a brief list of some of the crap that was left behind to rot:

- 1 package of rusted razor blades
- 3 broken box cutters
- 4 or 5 small tool belts
- Dozens of screws
- Handfuls of nails that were more rust than metal
- 1 blowtorch
- 4 pieces of rusted rebar, one of which had several nails sticking through one end of it (which made it look like some sort of brutal weapon pulled from a Mad Max film)
- 2 circular saw blades
- 1 end of a broom
- 25-or-so sockets (not for walls, but for ratchets)
- 1 sprayer head for a garden hose
- 1 mostly used bottle of wood glue
- 1 nasty fabric glove which was stiff and crusty for reasons I'm sure God wishes He could repress
- 1 rag (which was as equally crusty and stiff as the fabric glove)
- 1 severely dented can of OFF bug spray
- 1 link of nails intended for a nail gun (which I pretended was jewelry by wrapping around my wrist and up my forearm)

As I began to whittle down the contents of this truck box, all of the rusted nails and screws fell to the bottom. Eventually, they were all that was left remaining in the box and I was left with the final task of removing them. I started to pick them out with my hands, but then I realized something . . . I'm not current on my tetanus shot. Why, hello there, lockjaw!

I informed my manager (who was doing something nearby) about my deficient shot status and she laughed. I told her I was serious. And she laughed again. Then I told her a third time and it finally sank in that I wasn't joking. She then eagerly helped me brainstorm for alternative ways of removing the deadly rust spears.

She first suggested I put on a pair of the rubber gloves we had in the bathroom. "The kind of rubber gloves which are easily punctured?" I asked. She then suggested I turn the box upside down, shake out the items, and then sweep it up. I shot that down because 1) it would have been very awkward doing that with such a large item, 2) it would have made a huge mess, and 3) there was a lip on the inside of the box which would have made dumping it out very difficult. Finally, we settled on using magnets and a shop vac. It worked like a charm, but not before I felt a prick in the pad of one of my fingers.

I'm sure I'll be fine, but, if not, please sue for me. Sue them good.