Test Tubes

It was Kilroy’s first day reporting to work and he was more than eager. As a recent science graduate of a prestigious university he was in awesome spirits having attained employment at a laboratory. The office handed him a key, provided the lab room number and he was sent off to begin his work. He was employed as the test tube cleaner! He was seeking more elevated permanent employment than this, but it would do while that search continued. The lab room was located and he confirmed the number match on the key. ‘This is it. I go,’ he played out in his head. The door opened, he stepped in.

‘Oh shit,’ he said in his head, immediately regretful of the harsh tone in his thoughts. This was a full-sized 2,000 sq. ft. laboratory stacked with innumerable crates of test tubes. Well, sure, not exactly innumerable, but there were very many, more than he had imagined possible awaiting his arrival. The chemical odor from the dirty tubes was strong and the air still. The window blinds were in disorder casting an irregular louvered effect on his vast uncleansed inventory with the early morning light. The tables, desks, aisles and most surface area contained bins and cases of spent tubes. Clearly these tubes had been waiting months for him, or anyone, to clean them and release them back into circulation. But holy cow, the mass quantities were difficult to accept.

Just then a knock at the door! A greeting party? An introduction to the task at hand and how best to proceed? With a hopeful stride he returned to the door and opened with a smile.

“Hi, I’m a scientist in the lab next door. I heard a test tube-cleaning monkey had been hired, looks like you’re it. I’ve got this dolly full of dirty tubes for you. I know a few other labs have been holding their dirties because this room has been full for a while. They’ll probably bring them by soon. Thanks.” The scientist departed without hesitation and took the dolly leaving the carts of tubes outside for Kilroy’s manual effort. No introduction, no solicitation at all for the ‘monkey’s’ input. The final indignity had been delivered.

Kilroy was a guy accustomed to getting things done, monkey or human. The load was hauled in, he locked the door behind him, donned his gloves and goggles and got started. Monkey, he thought to himself. The local lab boners had underestimated this one and it fueled his rage. Two hours passed, it was nearing lunch with no visible progress. Positive visual effects were still days away. Another knock at the door, “Hey, I’ve got more test tubes for you. I was told someone was here. Are you in there?” ‘Screw them,’ thought Kilroy, ‘this monkey’s busy right now.’ The knock at the door was ignored.

Day two, he arrived to two additional dirty test tube deliveries. Eight hours into this job and he was deeper in the hole than if he had not started at all. The tubes were hauled inside then he unpacked his backpack. A CD-player loaded with a compact disc of Pink Floyd was turned on to lighten the mood and would be followed by Rush, King Crimson or Blue Oyster Cult depending what was needed at the time. He locked the door, again donned his Personal Protection Equipment and knuckled down. Kilroy had things to do and they would get done.

At the end of day two the number of cleans trickled in to fill several crates registering as the tiniest of victories. He would win this battle, but wow, how long? And how tedious?

By day three the cleaning protocol was in full swing. Dirty tubes were introduced en masse to the presoak. While the new batch soaked the prior batch of tubes were removed and forwarded to the test tube washing machine. Tubes in the next phase progressed from the drying rack to the autoclave for sterilizing. Test tube caps were cleaned, sterilized and dried, then matched with clean tubes. These finished tubes were proudly packed in the crates and placed by the door for pick up.

The lab room and its related duties had been under Kilroy’s reign for two weeks now. There had been no further ‘monkey’ references by the lab workers. They sensed that this one was powerful, a catalyst. Crates of clean tubes had been rolling out in impressive and efficient quantities. The quality was above reproach and a corresponding respect had stirred in the air.

It took two months before the inventory of dirty tube had been extinguished in their entirety. His work, this miserable task, had concluded. The blinds were uniformly drawn closed, the lights turned out and the door locked. A scientist looking through the window saw Kilroy departing. “There he goes,” he said to nobody in particular. Kilroy walked away in triumph continuing the search for more meaningful employment. It would be found and they’d be lucky to have him.

[Inspired by a job my brother had for a brief period of time many years ago.]