I have a small home security setup. It’s nothing major — a doorbell camera at the front door, one camera pointed at the back door, a few motion sensors, and some water sensors in case of leaks. I don’t live in a fancy house or have a lot of expensive stuff, but my home insurance provider offered a significant discount if I used their monitoring equipment, so I figured why not? I’ve never been the biggest fan of home surveillance; I never really saw much need for it, until the fateful day when this story happened.

While I was out and about, my doorbell camera pinged to let me know somebody was at my front door. I didn’t think anything of it as it was around the time the post usually came. However, when I got home, two men were at my door. One was kneeling at my door about to take a power drill to the lock, while the other was standing beside him.

Me: “Excuse me! What the h*** do you think you’re doing?!”

The men turned, startled. The standing man stared me down. He was wearing overalls, and I could see a badge hanging down from a lanyard, but I couldn’t read anything on it from where I was standing.

Warrant Engineer: “I’m a warrant engineer with [Energy Company #1]. We have been granted a warrant due to non-payment of your bill.”

Me: “I’m not with [Energy Company #1]. I am with [Energy Company #2], and as far as I am aware, I am fully up to date.”

Warrant Engineer: *Shrugging* “Take it up with them. We supply this meter. If you’ve paid somebody else, that’s not our fault.”

Me: “I have also never received a bill from you. Ever. I’ve only ever had bills from [Energy Company #2]. Don’t you have to notify me of legal action?”

Warrant Engineer: *Rolling his eyes* “We sent it. Signed delivery. We know you got it.”

Me: “I never got it.”

The warrant engineer opened his mouth, presumably to dismiss me, but I cut him off.

Me: “Why are you drilling my locks?”

Warrant Engineer: “The warrant gives us the right to enter your property to access the meter. You weren’t answering the door, so we called a locksmith to drill your locks.”

The other man, presumably the locksmith, got up, looking uncertainly between the warrant engineer and me.

Me: “Again, I never received any notice of legal action. If I had, I would have called to find out what was going on.”

Warrant Engineer: “Are you going to let me in so I can install this meter?”

Me: “I told you, I have no outstanding bills with you!” *To the locksmith* “I do not give you permission to drill my locks. Put that drill anywhere near my property, and I’ll sue you.”

The locksmith paled and backed away.

Warrant Engineer: “If you don’t let me into the property, I will call the police and have them allow me inside. One way or another, I’ll be fitting that meter. If you don’t like it, you should have paid your bill.”

Me: “Fine, go ahead and call the police. I’m not letting you in my house. I don’t have an outstanding bill with you, I wasn’t notified that I had any bills with you, and I certainly wasn’t informed of any legal action against me.”

The warrant engineer waved dismissively at me, took out his phone, and called the police.

Nervous, I called a friend who used to work for an energy company — not the one I was dealing with, but some insider knowledge was better than none. I genuinely had no idea what to do. Would I really have to let these people in my house? Could they force me to have this meter?

When she picked up, I explained the situation to her.

Friend: “First things first, ask to see the warrant. You have a legal right to see the warrant before you agree to anything.”

I nodded.

Friend: “Also, when you moved in, we called up National Grid, do you remember? They told us it was [Energy Company #2], so unless you’ve switched suppliers since then, you shouldn’t have bills with [Energy Company #1]. Which means a mistake has been made. Don’t let them do anything without checking the warrant first. If it is your details on it, have them double-check the meter serial number. Meter mix-ups are rare, but they can happen.”

I hadn’t switched suppliers, so this was most certainly a mistake.

I waited for the warrant engineer to finish his call to the police.

Warrant Engineer: *Grinning smugly* “Police are on the way. That’ll be an additional charge to your account.”

Me: “Show me the warrant.”

Warrant Engineer: “It’s in my van.”

Me: “I have a legal right to see it. I want to see it. Now.”

The warrant engineer sighed heavily, glared at me, and then trudged over to his van.

I texted my friend to let her know what was happening. She texted back and told me to take down the locksmith’s details just in case, which I did. The locksmith was a little hesitant, but he handed me a business card with his company details on it.

I waited for the warrant engineer to come back. And waited. And waited. Still, he stayed in his van.

I was hesitant to go inside my house as I was afraid he’d try to break down the door or something, so I continued to wait outside. This was less than ideal as my frozen food was defrosting rapidly, but what other choice did I have?

Finally, a police car rolled up and an officer got out. The warrant engineer finally came out of his van and followed the police officer to my door, pointing at me.

Police Officer: “I’m told there is a warrant for access to your property due to an outstanding bill. I’m afraid you are going to have to allow him access.”

Me: “I haven’t been shown the warrant yet. I asked to see it, but he went and sat in his van and hasn’t shown it to me yet. I haven’t received a single bill from them or a single notice of legal action. I have been paying [Energy Company #2] for the last three years without fail.”

The police officer looked at the warrant engineer, who made an exaggerated effort to take out the warrant and hand it to me. I looked it over.

The first red flag: the name on the warrant wasn’t my name. It was a man’s name; I’m female.

The second red flag: it wasn’t even for my address! For example, the warrant was for 71 Example Road, but my address is 17 Example Lane.

Me: “You’re at the wrong address. This is for 71 Example Road. This is 17 Example Lane. Example Road is on the other side of town.”

Warrant Engineer: “This is where my sat nav told me to come.”

The police officer gestured for me to hand him the warrant, so I passed it to him. He looked it over. He turned to the very clear brass door number 17 near my door and the wheelie bins with the same 17 in bright white numbers at least three inches in height. These were all things the warrant engineer and the locksmith would have had to walk past to get to my door.

He turned to the warrant engineer and handed him back the warrant.

Police Officer: “You’re at the wrong address.”

I turned to the locksmith, who was still standing there.

Me: “You didn’t check the warrant before you started drilling my locks?!”

The locksmith sputtered and stammered.

Police Officer: “Did you check the warrant?”

Locksmith: “I… uh… He didn’t show me the warrant.”

This did not go down well. The locksmith got a dressing-down from the police officer, who reminded him that he was supposed to check the warrant before he did anything. For all he knew, the warrant officer was a burglar he was unwittingly helping. He shouldn’t just take their word for it; he needed to see the warrant, not only to make sure there actually was one, but also to make sure the details were right.

The police officer apologised for the trouble, which was more than the warrant engineer or locksmith did. They scurried back to their respective vans and drove off.

The friend I had called helped me lodge a complaint with [Energy Company #1]. My doorbell camera had caught the whole thing — audio and all. Less than a week after I sent the footage, I was contacted by [Energy Company #1]’s legal team, who offered me an apology and a sum of money as compensation for the ordeal (or as my friend put it, “please-don’t-sue-us money”). Not a huge, life-changing amount, but more than enough to replace all the shopping that had spoiled, and then some. I used what was left to book a nice short break to destress.

I didn’t have quite as much luck with the locksmith company. All I really wanted was an apology and to raise awareness so they didn’t do it again. The locksmith hadn’t been rude or anything, just a little hopeless. I figured maybe it was a training issue, or the guy was new or something, but the manager I spoke to just didn’t see what the big deal was. His employee hadn’t ACTUALLY drilled the lock, so what was the problem? The fact that the only reason he hadn’t was that I got home in the nick of time didn’t seem to make a difference to him, and the manager accused me of complaining for the sake of it. So, I reported them to trading standards.

I never heard back, so I have no idea if anything came of it, but the locksmith business did close down later that year. Whether it was related or not, it was probably for the best.

Years ago, I was about to begin attending secondary school. We were viewing different local schools to see which one would be the best to send me to as there were quite a few options. We went to view one private school which my mum’s coworker had recommended to her.

When we entered the school grounds, we both got the impression that this school had a superior vibe going for it. The grounds were big and well-maintained, and all the parents and other students seemed to be turning up in very expensive cars.

The students who showed us around the grounds came across as quite rude and snooty and talked about the school as if it were the cream of the crop. They gave particular attention to how good the school was at sports and made us gaze upon the large trophy cabinet for what felt like an overly long time.

Both Mum and I were getting put off by this place, and in the back of my mind, I was hoping not to get sent there.

At the end of the tour, there was a little reception, and we noticed the headmaster talking to different families. I took the opportunity to go to the toilet. When I came out, Mum started taking me toward the exit.

Mum: “Let’s go! I’m not sending you here!”

I was relieved to hear that but also confused as to why she’d made up her mind so quickly.

While I was in the toilet, the headmaster made a beeline for her.

Headmaster: “Hello, I’m [Headmaster]. Welcome! Did you enjoy the tour?”

Mum: “Well, it was certainly impressive. I had some questions about—”

Headmaster: *Interrupting* “So, what sport does your son do? Football, rugby, cricket, swimming, athletics?”

Mum: “Well, my son isn’t really sporty. He’s more keen on doing drama or—”

Headmaster: *Interrupting again* “Then I suggest you find another school!”

Mum: “Excuse me?”

Headmaster: “This will not be the right school for your son. Sport is an integral part of school culture, and every student is required to represent the school in at least one! All the best with your search!”

With that, he rudely turned away and started talking to another family. I later found that despite presenting itself as some kind of elite institution, the school had a horrible local reputation. Bullying was not only rampant but allowed!

Three students from that school later attended my school and told some pretty horrific tales. One said that he was threatened with a knife, but when his parents complained, the headmaster refused to take any action because the bully’s parents were wealthy and considered “Good friends of the school!”, so zero was done! 

I’m very glad that the tour did not go well because my life at school could’ve been far worse if I’d attended that horror show!

In an office where I used to work, I had a colleague who didn’t believe that food allergies were real. As far as she was concerned, allergies were just excuses made up by fussy eaters.

No matter what anyone said or what evidence was presented, she refused to believe that allergies of any kind were real. And she liked to “prove” this by purposely slipping allergens into people’s food without their knowledge. She was proud of how many people she had “caught out” by doing this.

Nobody liked her, and nobody would take any food or drink she had made or touched — even those of us without allergies — which she hated. She couldn’t understand why nobody trusted her. She once tried to get the entire team in trouble with Human Resources for not eating food she had baked, but that’s another story for another day.

One day, she stormed into the office, furious. It turned out that over the weekend, at a family barbeque, she had tried to “catch her sister-in-law out” by slipping peanuts into her food. Her sister-in-law was very allergic to peanuts. After eating the food [Colleague] had poisoned, her sister-in-law went into severe anaphylaxis and had to be rushed to hospital.

She ranted and raved about the injustice of it all. She could not seem to understand why her family (her brother especially) were so angry with her. She refused to acknowledge she had done anything wrong. In fact, as far as she was concerned, she was the real victim. 

She tried to say that her sister-in-law was just trying to make her look bad and turn her family against her. So, she went into life-threatening anaphylaxis to make [Colleague] look bad, I guess…? As you do.

Then, she insisted that, no, her sister-in-law’s anaphylaxis must have been caused by something else — food poisoning perhaps, or something she had done earlier that day. It had nothing to do with slipping a known allergen into her food (because remember, allergies aren’t real).

The scariest part was that at no point did she express any remorse or even concern for her sister-in-law’s wellbeing — not even when she mentioned that her sister-in-law had almost died.

The next day, she didn’t come to work. Or the next. A rumour spread through the office that [Colleague] had been arrested. I don’t know if that was true or not. Nothing was ever confirmed, and as you can imagine, [Colleague] did not have many friends in the office, and none of us were acquainted with her family, so none of us had the means to confirm anything. This was in the days before social media, so we had no way of finding anything out.

A meeting was later called where our manager told us that [Colleague] would not be coming to work any time soon and that if anyone called asking about her, we were to forward them immediately to whichever manager was on duty and to say nothing about [Colleague].

[Colleague #2] always looked for news stories about [Colleague] when he went to get his morning paper, but he never saw anything. We never saw [Colleague] again, either.

I have no idea what happened to her, but she wasn’t exactly missed. I hope her sister-in-law is okay!

Back in the late 1990s, a brand new multiplex opened in a major city near me. At the time, this was quite exciting since we had few of these around, and it was apparently looking to be some kind of local hotspot with different bars, restaurants, and nightclubs all under one roof.

By chance, I won some free tickets to the first-ever screening at the theatre, which was for one of the “Free Willy” movies. My dad, my sister, and my friend were all able to go as we had four free tickets. I wasn’t massively excited about the film, but it was still pretty cool.

When we arrived, the place certainly looked new and impressive, and we got some free popcorn to boot. There were a number of families in attendance, and everyone looked happy.

Then, the strangest thing happened when the movie started. Literally five seconds into the movie, the curtain suddenly went down and the house lights came up! Everyone in the cinema sat there perplexed at what was happening.

A woman in a business suit suddenly appeared and made an announcement. 

Woman: “Ladies and gentlemen, that is probably the shortest movie we will ever show here at [Cinema], but unfortunately, due to problems with our license, we are unable to show this movie this afternoon.”

There was very confused silence from all in attendance! 

Woman: “We have some free tickets for everyone for a future screening, and we do apologize!”

Everyone filed out and got their tickets, looking bemused and baffled by this whole ordeal. In the end, it worked out okay because I wasn’t bothered about not seeing the movie, and we got to use the tickets for a better film later on. Afterward, my dad took us to see “Men In Black”, which we were more excited to see! 

It was an opening I won’t forget because it still confuses me. What the h*** were they doing? Why did they wait until the opening credits just to stop the movie if they could’ve just cancelled or rescheduled beforehand? The cinema is still going and is very popular, but that botched opening left them with egg on their face!

Many years ago, I temped at a recruitment agency that specialised in support positions that required security clearance. This could be anything from a security guard for a government building to a senior administrator for MI5.

I had been hired for a few months to effectively screen the person who would be doing the job I had been hired as a temp for, except she was going to be a recruitment manager, so she’d have a few more duties that I wasn’t qualified for. I was chosen as a stopgap because I already had full security checks from a previous position working in a school and extensive admin experience.

The new hire couldn’t start until everything came back clean. This included running an extended criminal check, as well as calling for references from all previous employers. Let me tell you, getting references from twenty-plus years ago can be a time-consuming pain in the backside.

Her criminal check came back clean. However, her employment references were… problematic. Any references where she had indicated management experience either had no record of her working for that company or no record of her working there in a management position. A few references were for companies that had long since closed, so there was no way to confirm either way. Still, I soldiered on through the references.

During this time, the new hire came by the office a few times to drop off necessary documentation such as photo ID and to do some training. While she was in, I asked her if she had gone by any other names, thinking this might explain why some employers had no record of her working there. Perhaps I was just giving them the wrong name. She looked down her nose at me and told me no in the most condescending way possible. “Okay,” I thought, and got back to work, grateful I wouldn’t be working alongside her.

I was having difficulty locating the correct information for one of her more recent employers, so I decided to see if she had a Facebook account that might confirm the right details — many people list where they’ve worked, after all.

That’s when I discovered that she was writing nasty comments about various people in the office on her public Facebook profile. She wrote that I was a “fat cow” who was deliberately dragging my feet on getting her references so I could steal her job. She also called my manager a “perv”, and she said she would report him for sexual harassment when she started to “put him in his place”.

But the worst part was that she had managed to sneak photos of some staff and had added nasty captions. She managed to take a picture of me while I was nibbling on some food at my desk and wrote the caption “porky”. On a photo she had snuck of my manager, she had written the caption “panty sniffer”.

Aside from the malicious nature of the photos, taking any photos in our office was strictly forbidden. Cameras and mobile phones were banned from the office because we dealt with a lot of confidential contracts. Phones were taken at reception and put in secured lockers to be collected either when you went to lunch or when you went home. The receptionists were pretty on the ball about this, so I have no idea how she managed to sneak a phone in.

But the icing on the proverbial cake was that she regularly complained about how long it was taking because she was going travelling in nine months. Every day I “dragged my heels”, I was “stealing” money she needed for her travels. That explained her attitude with me.

In her interview, this woman had not mentioned anything about her planned travels. In fact, she had said she was looking for something long-term and expressed an interest in helping the company grow. It became clear that what the woman really wanted was to grow her bank balance with this high-paying job, so she lied through her teeth about having management experience.

I informed my manager of this, emailing him screenshots of her posts. The woman was marched into my manager’s office, where he not only told her we were rescinding our offer of employment, but he made her delete all the photos from her phone and Facebook while he watched. He warned her that if he saw any photos of this office or its employees on social media, he would be taking legal action.

In response, the woman posted rant after rant on her — still public — Facebook profile saying we had discriminated against her and that my manager tried to feel her up and then fired her, she claimed that I lied to make her look bad, and she also claimed my manager was racist and that’s why he terminated her. Both my manager and this woman were white, for the record.

I reported it to my manager, who called her and told her that unless she took down those posts, she would be sued for libel. The posts were taken down within the hour, and passive-aggressive posts about freedom of speech and how “you can’t say anything without people getting offended” posts replaced them. And she still didn’t make her profile private. Go figure.