Keeping Us Pest Free Since 2005

When Fang and I moved to New York, we lived in an apartment building on the Upper West Side. We had decided to take a year and rent before buying. We chose a neighborhood that appealed to our sensibilities--a place in the thick of the Upper West Side but in the shade of the tree lined beauty of Riverside Drive. The location was as close to urban heaven as could be. The building, however, was not.

It was solely a rental building so the tenants were made up of a mix of rent stabilized long term residents and folks like us who were biding their time for a year whislt looking for something to buy. It was a small prewar unit with fine moldings and high ceilings and an unusually long galley kitchen. It was technically a two bedroom unit although we utilized the second bedroom (the size of a large utility closet) as an office. The sole minuscule bathroom offered the unique functionality of peeing and washing your hands in the sink at the same time. Still, the large dramatic windows offered a broad view of the neighborhood and large shafts of sunlight filtered all day into the main room.

I was so thrilled to be in Manhattan that I didn't care if our temporary home was a closet. I didn't want to sit inside; I wanted to be out on the streets, soaking in the people and the atmosphere and all that je ne sais quois that makes this city so fascinating.

The apartment building had dreadful management. Things would falter and never be repaired. The circuit breakers were vexed beyond reason. And after a few weeks in our new abode, I discovered one of the downsides of Manhattan living: cockroaches. The quality of care in the building was not particularly maintained. Why should it be? Half of the apartments were occupied by long term residents paying a buck ninety-nine for their monthly rent while the in-out-nobody-gets-hurt balance of folks like me were paying an arm and a leg for the privilege to occupy this edifice. The bugs were sure to appear.

I'm a California girl. We don't have cockroaches that look like prehistoric relics in San Francisco. The first time I saw one, I daresay I nearly fainted. It was hovering in the corner of my kitchen, on the floor near the refrigerator. It's wretched attanae shook and it backed away from me slowly. He was the first of many who chose to come and visit. They had a preference for the kitchen and bathroom and on one horrific occasion, there was one suspended on the wall behind the bed. I wouldn't have noticed had not my cat Figaro tried to leap up and attack him. The last thing I saw was this cockroach sliding down the wall behind my head, like a stripper on a polished pole. The horror, people. I didn't sleep all night.

I couldn't handle it. I vowed that when we finally bought our co-op that it would be bug free. Soon after, we did find the perfect home still in the thralls of Manhattan and still on Riverside Drive (just further uptown). The apartment was prewar and with the tall ceilings I loved, but it was also large and spacious and with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Parts of it were remodeled and modern yet the original charm shone through. I've never been happier to move.

Within three months I caught my first glimpse of a bug. To be sure, it was much smaller than the beasts we saw in our old apartment but anyone knows that a small bug grows big and with one bug comes legions. This was my home now and I wasn't fucking around. I called Orkin immediately.

A few days later, in walked my savior Don Pierre (above). Don Pierre came in and with his mighty pet friendly spray and gel, he rid the premises of any whiff of insect life. Like an exorcist in a diamond embellished jersey, he fought battle mightily. He comes every quarter for preventative maintenance and we've been bug free ever since.

I might question some expenses, but Don Pierre's quarterly fee is worth every penny.