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Someone Woke Up On The Wrong Side Of The Bed Today

, , , , , , , | Working | June 3, 2022

My family and I went on a big family trip in 2009, when our daughters were twelve and fourteen. We had to change planes in Calgary. As we waited in line in the security area, our younger daughter noticed a lot of huge photographs mounted on the walls around us. Being a bit of a photography buff herself, she pulled out her camera — a fairly expensive one that she’d gotten for her most recent birthday — and took a few pictures.


We all gaped at him in shock, not knowing what he was talking about. We then realized that he was glaring at our daughter.

Daughter: “Taking some pictures.”

Husband: “Is there a problem, sir?”

Security Guard: “Um, yes. Did you not see those signs?”

He pointed to some signs around us that said, “NO PHOTOGRAPHY ALLOWED.” In fairness to him, they were super obvious, and I don’t know how we missed them.

Me: “I’m so sorry. We didn’t see the signs.”

Security Guard: “That’s no excuse.”

He then reached over and grabbed [Daughter]’s camera out of her hands.

Security Guard: “I’m confiscating this.” *Walks away*

Daughter: *In tears* “My… My camera! Mum, what’ll we do?”

We chased after him and found him behind his desk. He glowered at us and held up the camera tauntingly.

Security Guard: “I don’t know what you expected to happen. You’re not getting this back.”

Me: “Please, sir, can’t you let this go? She didn’t mean any harm, and we can delete the photos in front of you.”

Security Guard: “Not good enough. Goodbye.”

Husband: “She’s just a kid. Please?”

I should mention that our younger daughter was and is very tall, and even though she was only twelve at the time, she could easily have been mistaken for someone in her late teens.

Security Guard: “‘Kid,’ sure.”

Something convinced him to look closer at our daughter, though, who was now openly sobbing.

Security Guard: “How old are you?”

Daughter: “T-twelve.”

Security Guard: “Hmph. Fine. You can have this back, but never do that again.”

Daughter: “I won’t. Thank you.”

My “mama bear” instincts threatened to take over at that point — the sight of my kid crying her eyes out has a tendency to do that — but luckily, my husband kept his cool and pulled me away.

Husband: “Come on, love.” *Whispering* “He’s just doing his job.”

Me: “I know. I do wonder what he’ll tell his wife when he gets home today, though. ‘How was your day, honey?’ ‘Awesome! I got to make a twelve-year-old cry!’”

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