I worked with a guy at GM who had a pet tarantula, her name was Georgia. She was tame to the max and never tried to bite anyone, even though she still had her fangs.
He would bring her in once in a while for laughs. He would put her in a 12"x12" empty box on the work bench. She would climb up to look over the top at the action, but never got out. He would sometimes put her in his shirt and walk down to talk to some of the girls on the pin striping line. Georgia would crawl out the neck of his shirt and sit on his shoulder. The girls would run away screaming.
One day, the other repairman were chasing cars on the line, when he came to me and said he had a repair to make down the line and if I would keep an eye on Georgia. I said sure. I was the only repairman left at the repair station and was working under an instrument panel, when a female security guard walked by the bench. She had waist-length hair tied back in a ponytail. As she walked past the bench, she looked over and Georgia was looking back at her. I swear to God her ponytail stood straight out, she screamed and ran off. I ran over and put Georgia's box under the bench. Poor Georgia was huddled in the far corner of the box. I just knew a hazmat crew with cans of DDT would show up. But luckily, nothing happened.
He would bring her in once in a while for laughs. He would put her in a 12"x12" empty box on the work bench. She would climb up to look over the top at the action, but never got out. He would sometimes put her in his shirt and walk down to talk to some of the girls on the pin striping line. Georgia would crawl out the neck of his shirt and sit on his shoulder. The girls would run away screaming.
One day, the other repairman were chasing cars on the line, when he came to me and said he had a repair to make down the line and if I would keep an eye on Georgia. I said sure. I was the only repairman left at the repair station and was working under an instrument panel, when a female security guard walked by the bench. She had waist-length hair tied back in a ponytail. As she walked past the bench, she looked over and Georgia was looking back at her. I swear to God her ponytail stood straight out, she screamed and ran off. I ran over and put Georgia's box under the bench. Poor Georgia was huddled in the far corner of the box. I just knew a hazmat crew with cans of DDT would show up. But luckily, nothing happened.
