I worked for a major private security company in Hawaii as a site supervisor for quite a unique property. This location was a 400-ish-acre valley that had once housed munitions for the United States Navy. Created in 1935, it was either nearing completion or already in service when Pearl Harbor was attacked. We have reason to believe it also served as an internment camp at some point during the war. When the Navy left in 1993, they left behind 200 or so munitions caves which were blasted into the sides of the mountains making up the valley. These massive bunkers would become industrial storage for rent sometime in 2005.

On this particular day in 2017, we had just experienced massive storms that sent the property’s river over the low-lying bridge between the two halves of the valley, rendering it unusable to any of our tenants.

I found out about this as soon as I came to work. I drove directly through our lower gate system into the forest to close the gate that would block access to the bridge so no one would get the bright idea of trying to Oregon Trail the river and get swept all the way down to Pearl Harbor.

When I arrived, I found that the water was about two feet over the road deck and moving furiously. I took my pictures, locked the gate, and started documenting the closure of half of the property.

One of our tenants rolled up behind me. He was a long-time member of the valley and was well aware of the bridge issue when we experienced heavy rains.

Tenant: “Hey! Open the gate!”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t. As you can see, the bridge is underwater.”

Tenant: “How do I get to my unit?!”

Me: “Sorry, [Tenant], but as you are well aware, when this front bridge is out, it means E row is inaccessible.”

Tenant: “I don’t give a f***! Open the gate!”

I sighed and gave his vehicle a once-over. He was driving a two-wheel-drive 1985 Ford Ranger that was sagging horrifically due to the trailer hooked up to it. He had about as much hope of getting to the other side as I did with my 2013 Mazda 2.

Me: “Sorry, no. At that depth and speed, you wouldn’t make it across with that vehicle. It’s against policy for me to let you try.”

Tenant: “What did you just f****** say to me?”

Me: “I said no.”

Tenant: “Do you know who you work for?!”

I deposited my report into my clipboard and closed it with a smile.

Me: “Yes.”

I proceeded to give the tenant a rundown of the admittedly very complex chain of command that the property used at the time, at no point mentioning his name.

Me: “Feel free to contact—”

Tenant: “Bring your supervisor down!”

Me: “I am the supervisor, and no one above me is in yet; it’s only 7:00 am.”

Tenant: “Well, I want that d*** gate open right now! I’ll take the risk!”

Me: “No.”

This went back and forth several times with the tenant getting angrier and angrier. Other tenants pulled up, watched in amusement, and left.

Eventually, the tenant told me that he was just going to wait until I left and cut our lock, and he was not very pleased when I reminded him that he was a tenant, not an owner, and that willful destruction of company property would get him evicted and trespassed.

Tenant: “I don’t f****** care! Maybe I want to leave this place! You can’t stay here all day.”

Me: “You’re right. I can’t!”

I reversed my own car and blocked the gate off, summoning my staff member to bring me the truck. I left my personal car blocking the gate system. Now, if, for some reason, the lock was removed, there was still a hatchback blocking access.

The tenant eventually left and filed a complaint against me only to be told off by my direct manager.

About four months after leaving, in April of 2020, I saw on the news that, during another storm, someone disregarded the orders of security and attempted to cross under similar circumstances. They were washed away as soon as they made contact with the water in a heaver and taller vehicle than what the tenant had that day.

The driver was lucky to survive and had to be rescued by helicopter while his truck was, of course, a total loss.

Me: “I’ll be gone on [dates], just a reminder.”

Supervisor: “Thanks for the heads-up! See you when you return!”

Upon my return:

Me: “Hello, I’m back.”

Supervisor: “WHY WAS I NOT NOTIFIED YOU WOULD BE GONE?! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!”

This happens with enough regularity with this supervisor that I usually set aside the reminder emails before I leave so I can point to them when I return for the eventual meltdown.

So glad I’ll be transferred in a few months.

I live in Western Australia, and we haven’t had to mask up much compared to other places. I worked in a very busy cafe in a very rich suburb from 2019 to 2021.

I would see people put their masks on at the door, come to the counter, and complain about wearing a mask, and then they would sit down and take their masks off.

Meanwhile, I was stuck serving, talking, and breathing in a mask for ten hours.

One day, a man came in without a mask.

Customer: “I don’t wear chin diapers.”

Me: “This is Australia; we call them nappies here. You’ve been watching too much South Park.”

I refused him service and never saw him again.

Just a tip, don’t go up to workers who have to wear masks all day and complain about them.

When I was a kid, I HATED shoes — hated buying them, hated wearing them. It was to the point that my shoes would fall off my feet before I’d agree that maybe I should think about getting another pair. When I was about seven or eight, I saw a commercial for the shoes that lit up when you moved and I wanted a pair more than anything. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was a kid, but my mom was just grateful to not have to fight with me about it that she agreed to buy them on the spot.

We went to my grandmother’s house so I could show them off, and so Mom could donate some things to her sister’s garage sale that day. I went inside. The rule was, “No shoes on while in the house,” so I took them off and ran to find my grandmother.

Me: “Nana! Come look at my cool new shoes! They light up when you walk in them, and I love them!”

Grandma: “You got new shoes? That’s great!”

It took her a couple of minutes to finish whatever she’d been doing, and we went into the garage so I could show them off, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. We looked all over for them as I was getting more and more frantic. My mom came to help, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Mom: “Hey, [Aunt], have you seen a pair of kids’ light-up shoes anywhere? [My Name] took them off in the garage and we’ve misplaced them.”

Aunt: “No, I found them. I got $10 for them.”

My aunt had seen my shoes that we had just bought an hour ago and, without checking to make sure they were part of the donations, sold them to someone. They were the only pair of shoes I had that weren’t dressy shoes. I burst into tears. Money was super tight, and I was never just given something I wanted like that, so I figured I would never get to have those super cool shoes now.

Grandma: “You sold them?!”

Aunt: “Well, [My Name] needed new shoes, anyway, right? I figured they fell out of the box [Mom] brought over.”

Mom: “They were brand new! I still have the receipt for them! [Aunt], you know I can’t afford things like this!”

My aunt tried to huff and insist it was just an honest mistake, but my grandmother was having none of it. She forced my aunt to shut the garage sale down right then since she was allowing my aunt to use her home for it, as my aunt lived an hour outside of town. She then told my aunt she would either buy me an identical pair of shoes or she could live with never being invited back for anything.

I had a new pair of identical shoes an hour later, and I proceeded to wear them until I outgrew them about a year later.

I see a post on a community page. The person’s name is something like MyName Is MyBusiness with no profile picture.

Person: “Hello, I am new to [Town] and need any cat food and litter. I will meet someone at [Grocery Store] to pick it up.”

I have seen shortages here and there, but I know there is still a decent variety out there. I reach out to them privately.

Me: “Hi, I saw your post. Which stores have you checked? I usually buy at [Local Supercenter] or [Website].”

Person: “I need [Expensive Wet Cat Food] and trays for [Automatic Litter Box].”

I search online for less than five minutes before I find both items on the website I mentioned.

Me: “You can order them online from [Website].”

Person: “Why tell me where I can get it if you’re not going to send it to me?”

Me: “Because your post said you can’t find anything, and I’m telling you where you can find it.”

Person: “I’m trying to get my life together after leaving an abusive relationship, and you’re telling me to spend what little money I have? F*** you.”

Me: “Best of luck to you.”

They may have been telling the truth, in which case I hope they get the help and security they need. But I’ve also seen enough choosy beggars and scams to be incredibly cautious about “good deeds.”