I am the security supervisor at a large industrial property in the lower valley. The property is over four-hundred acres with about fifteen miles of internal roads. We have to do some traffic control as a result.

I am driving and a guy drives past me in a U-Haul. I catch a glimpse of a green bottle. He hasn’t gotten to the gate system yet, so I call my guard and tell him to deny access and have the driver wait on the side as I U-turn.

I get to the gates and hop out.

Me: “Hi! So sorry, but when you drove by me, I noticed you were drinking from a green glass bottle? What was that?”

The driver holds up a bottle of a popular beer brand.

Me: “See, you can’t be drinking and driving on the property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Driver: “Dude, it’s private property. F*** off.”

Me: “I know it is. I am the site security supervisor; I speak as an agent of the property. You can’t drink and drive here.”

Driver: “Show me where it f****** says that.”

Me: “It’s in the condo docs.”

Driver: “F*** you! I didn’t read no f****** condo docs!”

Me: “Well, it’s also in your common sense, or it should be. Look, if you let your passenger drive for the remaining time that you are here, then I’ll let you go, but I can’t have you knocking back beers while driving a box truck on a commercial property.”

Driver: “I pay f****** rent here, you [racist tirade for multiple races, none of which I belong to].”

Me: “Rent — which means you are a tenant, sir. As a tenant, you are obligated to follow the house rules detailed in the condo doc. Unfortunately, I can’t give you a pass just because you didn’t read them. Not on this.”

Passenger: “Just let me drive, man. This dude is just a uniform trying to do his job.”

Driver: *Turning to each of us in turn* “F*** you! And f*** you, too!”

Passenger: “Rude.”

Driver: “Let me see your supervisor!”

Me: “You want to see my supervisor because you are drinking and driving?”

Driver: “No, because you won’t let me in!”

Me: “Because you are drinking and driving.”

Driver: “Get him!”

Me: “He’s not in yet, but I can call someone who has a final say in the matter if you want.”

Driver: “YEAH!”

I went back to the patrol truck and called the Honolulu Police Department for a trespass; they arrived in less than a minute because we allow them to hang out on the top side of the property where they have shade to eat lunch and do paperwork as well as access to our bathrooms via a special door code we made for them. They are always more than happy to assist when we need them.

I explained to the dispatcher what was going on, and when the officer arrived, she parked diagonally in front of the U-Haul. We both went up to the U-Haul, and I had to give the guy the rundown on an official trespass from the property for the house rules that he had broken.

We came to find out he wasn’t the tenant — he was merely the employee of one — so the trespass went off easily.

Since it was private property, we couldn’t cite him officially for the DUI, but the second his tires touched the pavement at the end of our driveway, a second cop car pulled out from our closed exit lane and pulled him over.

The officer ended up finding multiple open containers in the cab of the U-Haul. Of course, the driver tried to claim they were the passenger’s, but he blew nearly two times the legal limit.

Since U-Haul was the registered owner of the box truck, the police had to contact them, and I am unsure what the conversation was, but the truck ended up getting towed loaded with product.

The driver ended up getting fired for the DUI and the loss of work/profit. Due to my testimony to the actual tenant, the passenger remained on the job.

Seriously, all the guy had to do was switch seats with the passenger and everyone could have gone home happy at the end of the day.

I’m a cheap b*****d, so rather than renting my own place or, God forbid, buying a home, I usually rent a room in a house shared with others, and I put the rent money saved to better use instead. Despite horror stories I’ve read online, I’ve mostly had pretty decent rental experiences. Either we all get along, or more often, everyone stays in their own room and ignores each other, and you only see a reminder the other person exists once or twice a week.

That was except for one experience. We had four in the house, but the newest person, replacing a tenant who moved out recently, was trouble. He smoked pot while playing music way too loud all the time, causing the house to stink and be too loud to do anything, including falling asleep. He was rude and left us to clean up for his messes and otherwise was just a terrible roommate. He also was home all the time — as far as we could tell he had no job or social life — which meant there was no time he wasn’t around making the place unlivable.

We reported this to our landlord, who assured me something would be done. When that something failed to materialize, I started looking for a different rental location only to find my house listed on the sites I checked. It seems my landlord’s idea of “doing something” was to wait until he had a replacement before he removed [Roommate].

One day, the doorbell rang, and after a few rings without anyone answering it, I paused my game and went down to see who it was at the same time that [Roommate] came up from his basement room. [Roommate] got there first, only to discover police officers asking to come in to speak with us.

[Roommate] clearly got worried, immediately insisted that they couldn’t come in, and asked what they wanted. I eavesdropped long enough to piece together that the police wanted to ask questions about a string of burglaries that I hadn’t realized were happening around where we lived. [Roommate]’s evident terror reminded me of his only leaving the house late at night, and of some mysterious items he had brought home even later at night that trusting, naïve me hadn’t thought to be suspicious enough about at the time.

Me: “You can come in, officers.”

Roommate: “What?! No, no! You’re not invited. You can’t come in.”

Me: “I’m also a legal tenant here, and I say you’re invited. Come on in.”

[Roommate] tried to bar the way in and continued protesting that they couldn’t come in. [Officer #1] just glared at him before saying, “Excuse me,” in a tone of voice that was more demand than request, and [Roommate] backed down so the officer could enter.

Me: “Come with me, please, officer.”

I started leading him down the steps toward [Roommate]’s room and away from my own. There was nothing but his room and the laundry down there, so [Roommate] was immediately suspicious.

Roommate: “Hey, you can’t go in my room.”

Me: “I’m not taking them in it.”

Roommate: “Then what the h*** are you doing?”

We got down there and, as I expected given [Roommate]’s past pattern of behavior, the door to his room was wide open and reeking of marijuana. Keep in mind, it was still illegal in the state back then.

Me: “Can you see anything interesting?”

Officer #1: “Indeed. Is that a joint?”

Me: “He brought some stuff in a black cardboard box he didn’t want us to know about last night and put it in there, too.”

[Officer #1] started to go in, and [Roommate] started ranting that the officer couldn’t go in there and that he knew they need permission, etc. Of course, while I’m far from a lawyer, I know just enough to know that the officers can enter the home if any resident invites them, even if another doesn’t. While I couldn’t give them permission to search [Roommate]’s room — only shared spaces — once they were in the hallway, they could look in and see plenty of evidence in plain sight that would allow them sufficient probable cause to enter his room.

[Roommate] ended up facing charges for theft — apparently, someone saw him rob a home just to walk right into ours — along with the use of illegal substances, and I think some other charges.

I had a long talk with my landlord. I basically said that either [Roommate] could not be allowed back in the house or I was leaving, and I would convince the rest to leave, too. After our talk, the landlord decided to have a talk with [Roommate] about how he had breached the rental agreement by smoking pot and basically ban him from returning to the house.

Of course, I was still frustrated enough with my landlord’s failure to act sooner that I kept up my search for a new place and moved out not too long after that, anyway.

I pick up a woman using the rideshare app I drive for. I play music in my car at a quiet volume, but I have signs visible to the passengers saying that I am happy to turn the music off or play a certain radio station if they prefer.

Passenger: “Can you play some music that’s a little less offensive?”

I personally don’t consider Louis Armstrong offensive, but I don’t judge people’s tastes, so I oblige and change my playlist to the radio.

Passenger: “This is even more offensive!”

Okay, Beyoncé isn’t for everyone, so I change it once again.

Passenger: “Look, if you’re doing this on purpose, I don’t appreciate it.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. Maybe if you want to hear something specific, I can use my Spotify—”

Passenger: “Just stop playing all this [n-word] music!”

Without hesitation, I take the nearest turn and pull up at a gas station. The passenger looks up from her phone.

Passenger: “Seriously? You should fill up your gas before you pick up a passenger.”

Me: “Actually, this is where I am dropping you off. You should be able to safely get another ride from here, but I am not taking you.”

Passenger: “What? No! I paid for this ride and you’re f****** taking me!”

Me: “The app’s terms and conditions protect the driver from passengers such as yourself. Please get out of my car.”

Passenger: “I’m gonna report you!”

Me: “That’s fine, ma’am. Please do so outside my car.”

Passenger: “I’m not going anywhere!

I immediately dial 911 and put the call on speakerphone.

Me: “Can I get the police to come to the [Gas Station] off of [exit number]? I have an aggressive and abusive passenger refusing to exit my vehicle.”

Passenger: “You f****** [n-word]! You are so gonna get f***ed up!”

Me: *Into the phone* “I trust you heard that?”

She actually did exit the vehicle, but I hung around to wait for the police, where I pointed her out — she couldn’t get another ride from this location very quickly — and they arrested her. I provided my in-car camera footage when evidence was requested as I pressed charges. 

You have to give them consequences for that behavior, or it’ll just keep happening.

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I am a manager called to the service desk to appease a customer. The weather is snowy. The customer is livid and holding a prepaid phone and some headphones.

Customer: “I had to sleep outside last night, and it is all your fault! I demand compensation.”

I’m guessing the cops kicked him off the bench outside our store or he was camping in our loading dock.

Me: “What happened, sir?”

Customer: “I had to sleep outside because of you! I bought this [prepaid] phone yesterday, and it didn’t work right! How are you going to compensate me?”

Me: “I don’t understand how a phone led to you sleeping outside. Can you tell me more?”

Customer: “Are you stupid? Yesterday, I bought this phone. I made one call and it cut out, but my girlfriend needed the phone. She got mad when it didn’t work and tried to kick me out of her motel room. I didn’t want to leave, so she called the cops. They said I had to leave, and I didn’t have anywhere to go. So, I had to sleep outside. I want compensation!”

Me: “Well, that is unfortunate, but we aren’t going to compensate you for that. You get a few minutes free with your prepaid phone purchase, but after that, you do have to pay. You can return the headphones, though.”

The customer makes some mocking sounds and swears at me, including calling me a few names.

Me: “If you aren’t going to speak to me respectfully, you need to leave.”

Customer: “You can’t make me leave. I’m going to call the cops for fraud!”

Me: “Go ahead, sir. In the meantime, you need to leave.”

Cue more mocking and foul language, and more refusing to leave.

Me: *To the security guard* “Call the cops. He doesn’t have a working phone.”

He suddenly shuts up when the hamster in his brain gets on the wheel. He suddenly realizes that the cops may provide him with tax-payer-subsidized accommodation.

Customer: “Ma’am, I’m really sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. I’d really appreciate it if you could just return the headphones and I’ll be on my way.”

Me: “We can do the return, but I am not calling off the cops until you’ve left the building.”

The return went well. The cops were called off. Relationship status is unknown.

My dad is a councilman. A few months ago, they installed a pedagogic radar at the entrance of the town. It was an automatic speed radar that shows what speed you are going, but it will never send you a fine. 

What people don’t know is that despite the radar not being able to fine them, speeding is still logged. And after a few weeks, the council started to notice that every night at the same hour, there was a very big speedster — 90+ kph instead of 50 kph.

But as stated before, the data from the radar did not allow the council to fine them — both technically and legally.

Almost. 

My dad was a volunteer firefighter for almost thirty years, some of those years at the same time as being a councilman. Therefore, he had a lot of contacts. He simply told the local cops about this guy speeding every night at the same time and same place.

The next time my dad met the cops, they brought him a bottle of wine. Apparently, they’d made quite a big catch that day.

I will not judge you if you like to speed; I was young and dumb once, too. (And I’m still one of those.) But at least try to avoid patterns.