Notes From The Warehouse

I spent a Thursday afternoon at the warehouse, where our products are held between their manufacture and their dispatch. The building is a single high-ceilinged room somewhere off a state route I had not previously driven. There is one entrance. There is a small office at the back, staffed by two people who are, by all reports, extremely competent and extremely quiet.

I had gone to observe the inventory of the Absence Mister, which had been experiencing a small but persistent rate of false activations during shipping. The theory was that the units' motion sensors were briefly triggering during loading, emitting a short mist, and then settling. The warehouse team had asked, politely, for a design review.

What I saw when I arrived was one Absence Mister, on a rack at approximately chest height, misting gently into the empty aisle. I stood at the end of the aisle, still. It continued. I took one step forward. It stopped. I took one step back. It resumed. I watched it do this for several minutes, and then I turned and walked back to the office. The warehouse team nodded and said the device was performing as designed.

I did not write up the unit for review. I left it on its rack. It was, I think, doing its job. The plants were fine.