I work security for an office building that includes its own warehouse. The setting is similar to what you would see in “The Office”: a moderately-sized warehouse used for company product and supplies, just big enough to warrant having a forklift and a loading dock.

While viewing the cameras, I watch as an Audi SUV pulls into the dock. Obviously, we don’t want normal-sized vehicles in there since the area receives shipments pretty randomly all day. I watch to see if the individual driving it has large items in the back to unload, and he doesn’t, just a singular bag that looks like a Christmas gift.

I call the phone on the dock from our security line, but he ignores it as he is allowed access to our kitchen by one of the line cooks.

That’s fair; he’s not an employee after all.

My next call goes to the kitchen. I inform them that their guest needs to move his vehicle if he is planning on being here long-term or if a truck arrives. They tell me that he will be fast, but before I can even hang up the call, a forty-foot flatbed loaded with pallets of product appears out of nowhere. I quickly tell the person on the phone that if the individual isn’t loading or unloading, he needs to move his vehicle to allow our warehouse to utilize their forklift to unload the truck.

No one comes out.

I call the kitchen again and I am informed that the guest has gone to the restroom. After twenty minutes, I call them again. Now, they don’t know where he is. Apparently, he has gone up into our office spaces to talk to a friend while this truck is outside. Displeased with this news, I ask the kitchen staff to get the make, model, and license plate number down for me, and once the information is provided, I use our building PA system to make a general announcement to the building, asking the driver to return and move their vehicle to our guest parking lot.

No one comes out.

It has now been thirty minutes. I make a second announcement, and as time goes on, a third. Now there are two trucks in our lot which are backing up our parking traffic.

It is time to make “The Call”.

I pick up the phone and summon the lot shark, a spotter that we use to tow vehicles when need be and, unfortunately for the driver of the Audi, not only is he already IN our parking lot but he has preemptively dispatched their tow truck which is almost to the property.

Utilizing the PA, I make another announcement, calling to the driver of the SUV and informing the building that the vehicle will be towed shortly.

The driver doesn’t make an appearance until the second truck is almost done being unloaded, a full two and a half hours after his initial arrival.

He is absolutely pissed that his car is gone and shouts abuse at our warehouse workers before making his way to security where he demands that we bring the vehicle back, telling us that we had no right to tow him from private property.

Now, I don’t know where this poor, poor man learned the law, but it takes a concentrated effort to keep my customer service face on.

Me: “Sir, we made several announcements. Were you able to hear them in your area?”

Guest: “Of course, but towing from a private lot is illegal! You can’t do that!”

Me: “I can assure you that it is perfectly legal, sir. The loading dock is clearly marked as not only a no-parking zone but a tow-away zone with several signs. In compliance with state law, we also have signs clearly displaying the company information for our towing contractor.”

Guest: “You can’t tow from a private lot! I need my car back now or I am calling the police!”

Me: “I am sorry, sir, but I do not work for the towing contractor. Once they have your vehicle, I can’t make them surrender it unless it was towed in error, as they have generated a bill that needs to be paid.”

Guest: “OF COURSE, IT WAS TOWED IN ERROR! YOU CAN’T TOW FROM A PRIVATE LOT! BRING ME MY F****** CAR! I’M NOT PAYING FOR S***!”

I have to admit, at this point, my resolve slips a little bit.

Me: “No.”

Guest: “EXCUSE ME?!”

Me: “No.”

Guest: “I AM CALLING THE POLICE!”

Me: “Let me know how that goes for you.”

The police show up about five minutes later. I’m not sure what he told them to get them to arrive that fast, but they do. The Audi driver wastes no time shouting at the officer and waving his hands around exaggeratedly almost as soon as the officer gets out of his patrol car.

Whatever it is he says strikes a nerve.

The officer takes one casual look around from where he is standing and seems to take a deep breath before holding up a hand, stopping the Audi driver’s shouting.

I watch on the cameras as the officer literally takes this man to every. Single. One. Of our no-parking signs and points them out individually, very obviously going over every word on them and reading them off loudly. He then shows him the red curbs, the stripes on the ground, and the signs within our loading dock itself. The best part is that, while our cameras have no audio, the officer’s body language strongly suggests he is breaking down every single parking control implement as if the man he is speaking to is two years old.

The officer then pulls out a small red book, flips it open, and reads from a page. Once he puts it away, the Audi driver stalks off, taking out his cellphone as he starts reading the information on one of the signs.

The officer shakes his head and comes upstairs.

Me: “Good morning, Officer!”

Officer: “Not when you have to deal with people like that right at the start of a shift!”

Me: “Are you going to arrest me for illegally towing a car off of private property?”

Officer: “Don’t… don’t do that. Would you like to trespass him?”

Me: “No, sir, I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

Officer: “You’re nicer than me.”

Me: “Unfortunately.”

Officer: *Sniffing the air* “Can you let me in through the lobby gate so I can get some of that coffee?”

Me: “I’d be glad to.”

Our kitchen staff gave the officer a full breakfast and a company travel mug of coffee for free, probably out of guilt that their guest had caused such a scene.

A customer came to the register with a crate of a few bottles of wine, and he handed me just one. This is pretty normal for people who are buying a lot of one thing so they don’t have to put everything on the counter. I put it in as eight bottles of that wine, which were about 6€ per bottle.

A few days later, when the wine department was doing inventory, they noticed a number of bottles of more expensive wine (about 30€ per bottle) were missing, but the register system didn’t show any being sold. They reviewed the security footage and found my customer in front of the shelf filling the crate with one bottle of the cheap wine and the rest with the expensive one, which looked identical. It was the same brand and vineyard but different years or something. Of course, he told me they were all the same cheaper wine, and I blindly trusted that because, A) people do this all the time, B) I didn’t know there were identical-looking wines with such a huge price differential, and C) he was a somewhat regular customer; I’d definitely seen him before, and the people who stole from us or scammed us usually only came once.

We’ve also had people trying to scam cashiers by asking them to exchange large bills and break them up into smaller ones and then constantly changing their minds on how they want the bills broken up to confuse the cashier into accidentally giving them more money than they were asking to exchange. It did work on a few people, and that actually led to a policy change; we’re not allowed to exchange anything above ten bucks now. Initially, it was actually no exchanges at all, but that led to a lot of customers getting upset at us when they’d try to get a coin for a cart or change for the copy machine and be told no.

I work in the solar industry (mainly residential) as a service technician. Whenever something goes wrong with a Solar PV system, I’m the guy they send out to fix it. I’ve been doing this long enough to have the knowledge and skill to complete an entire installation by myself, with roof pitch and module count — within reason, that is.

I go out with one of the crews for an installation as they are short a few guys. It seems like a pretty standard job: forty panels and not a steep roof. We should be in and out, timing permitting, finished and back at the shop by four or five pm.

We arrive at the house in what looks like a pretty rich neighborhood. The homeowner greets us and even offers to grab us all breakfast. It is a good day so far. We set up an exclusion zone to prevent anyone from coming too close to the house as equipment, tools, etc., can fall off the roof. I’m on the ground working on building the electrical portion of the system. I’ve got my music playing, all is good, and I’ve got myself in a good rhythm.

I then notice a child, no older than seven, darting past the red tape we put up, heading toward a ladder to the roof, and trying to start playing on it. Like a human being with common sense, I run over and tell the kid:

Me: “You can’t play on this. That red tape is up so you can’t get hurt.”

Then, the kid’s mother appears.

Mother: “Don’t talk to my son like that. He just wants to play with your tools.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t allow him to play with our tools. I also can’t have him or you past that red tape. We put it up for your safety.”

Mother: “Oh, he’ll be fine. Just tell your workers to not drop anything.”

Me: “I can tell them to not drop anything all day, but that doesn’t exclude the fact that accidents happen, and we cannot risk anyone who is a non-worker being hurt. Now please leave; this is an active worksite.”

Mother: “I can do as I please and so can my son. We’re friends with these people, and they let my son play in their yard. You should take a better direction at talking to potential customers, you know.”

Me: “Ma’am, until I have site plans for an installation on your house, how I speak to you is not a concern I have. If I sound cross, I apologize, but I have now told you twice that I cannot have you past that red tape. So, I am asking once again, please take your son and leave before either of you gets hurt. This is an active worksite.”

She grabs her child’s arm and storms off, while also tearing off a section of the exclusion zone tape and storming over to her house two doors down.

A little while later, the panels are prepped, and the roof is based out. We’re now just finishing up the electrical before placing the panels into position. I’m running between the basement and the outside area. I get back outside, and I’m punching in some wires when I hear one of my guys yelling from the roof.

Coworker: “Hey, kid, what are you doing?”

That immediately catches my attention as I think the little kid has run past the exclusion zone tape once again. But my eyes catch an older kid running down the road with a solar panel in tow. Thankfully, he isn’t very fast with how he is holding the panel. I dart over to this kid with one of our solar panels and attempt to rip it from his hands, while simultaneously trying not to let it hit the ground. I am able to get my hands on it, but this kid actually puts up a fight and tosses the solar panel in a way that puts me in an awkward position, and he lands a full-on punch to my chest. Not gonna lie, it does knock the wind out of me a little.

But I go into full self-defense mode. The kid wants to take another shot at me since I didn’t completely go down. I immediately put him on the ground without throwing any punches; I don’t know how old this kid is and I don’t want to get into trouble for hitting a minor, but I’m not about to let this kid continue to hit me.

I have the kid pinned down on the ground, and out comes the mother, running and screaming like a banshee, the typical, “I’m calling the cops,” and, “You just assaulted my son!”

Me: “Your son was stealing a solar panel and punched me in the chest. I had to defend myself.”

Mother: “I told him to grab the solar panel! My neighbor said I could take one and try it out and see how I like it.”

At this point, my guys were at my aid, and I told them to call the cops and keep the mother away from me. As we waited for the cops to show up, this lunatic was ranting how she was going to sue all of us, and blah, blah, blah.

Cops arrived about ten minutes later. I removed myself from the kid and the cops split us all up to take our statements and such. The mother went with her story about how her neighbor said she could borrow a solar panel and try it out. Now, even if he did say that (which he didn’t) you can’t just let someone take a solar panel, because they still belong to the company. Most people who buy solar finance the panels and pay them off over the course of the next couple of years. It works a lot like financing a car.

It got to the point where the cops asked if I want to press charges for the assault. The homeowner had a security camera system and caught the incident all on tape, so I gladly said yes.

The homeowner was present during most of the ordeal, and he told us he’d never talked to that woman in his life. I have no idea what her intentions were with the solar panel. If she planned to just slap it on her house, she’s as stupid as she is entitled.

The kid was eighteen, so legally an adult. I have no idea when the court proceedings are going to be taking place. I honestly just want this over and done with.

I was asked by my friend and his father to help them move across Waikiki from one apartment to the other. They had reserved a fifteen-foot truck but neither of them could drive — my friend doesn’t have a license and I believe his father was injured — so I was asked to be their driver. I wasn’t looking forward to navigating downtown Waikiki with a fifteen-foot-long rectangle, but I agreed under the promise of dinner.

We arrived at the local truck rental dealer and encountered an employee outside. He gladly showed us the truck we were renting and ushered us into the building to do the paperwork.

Midway through, this happened. 

Agent: “Oh, I don’t have the keys.”

Me: “Oh… maybe it’s in your dropbox?”

Agent: “No, I just got all the after-hours return keys. I bet the woman before you left them in the truck. I’ll be right back.”

The agent left and was gone for all of three minutes before he burst back through the front doors like a tornado, knocking over an innocent hand truck on display. 

Agent: *Grabbing the phone* “THE TRUCK IS GONE!”

All Three Of Us: “What?!”

Agent: “Someone stole the truck! She left the keys in it! Hello, police, please!”

We had to wait until the agent finished reporting the vehicle as stolen. We found out later that the previous renter DID, indeed, leave the keys in the vehicle, and a random passerby jumped into the truck and drove off while we were doing the paperwork. 

We ended up with a nine-foot-long van instead of a fifteen-foot truck because that was all they could offer us now that our intended vehicle was on a joyride across God’s creation. The agency waived a ton of the normal fees, discounted the base rental, and threw in that hand truck I mentioned earlier for free. 

I enjoyed the maneuverability of our cargo van, and navigating Waikiki’s congested and narrow streets was much easier with a “normal” vehicle; however, without the extra space, the move took eight trips back and forth across the city instead of the one we were hoping for.

At my workplace, we check all customers’ vaccine passports. When I check one customer’s:

Customer: “I want your full name! I’m going to report you and your business to the human rights council!”

Checking vaccine passports is mandated by law here!