Looks Like IMF Are In The Building!

, , , , | Right | September 16, 2018

(I work as on-call tech support for a company. I receive a call from work that the Internet is down, so I go to check it. To make a long story short, the ISP is down. I go to inform the guard we have at the company. It is around 9:30 pm.)

Me: “Do you have any Internet?”

Guard: “No, not at the moment.”

Me: “Yeah, the whole region is down due to a failure at the Internet Service Provider.”

Guard: “Yeah, everything is down… except for the camera security footage at [Different Site].”

(I know the footage comes via the Internet.)

Me: “Okay, that is strange.”

Guard: “Wait a second. This footage is stuck at 7:30 am!”

(I was wondering why there were still so many cars parked at the factory.)

Bringing A Knife To A Gun-Flight

, , , , | Legal | August 31, 2018

I work as a general screener at an airport, and mostly frisk for weapons, sharp objects, LAGs, and such.

A family of four comes through, and the old lady takes a while due to her pockets being full of stuff.

Her son comes back from the bag collection towards me, as my female colleague begins her sixteen steps, and starts screaming at us that they are “pure” [nationality] and she is an old woman, so how dare we search her, especially since I’m the foreigner here. I am actually the same as him, but mixed. He starts asking for our badge number and name; I’m about to get a flight supervisor as my colleague signals to me that she found a knife.

Turns out the old lady concealed a knife with an eight-inch blade under her armpit because her family told her she couldn’t bring it on the plane. She intended to use it to cut fruit.

The police and airline ask us our opinion if they should be let through or if there is a risk of more items. I look at him and say that the concealment of the item ought to automatically warrant a full search of their person and baggage. They don’t make their flight that day.

Guarding His Insecurities

, , , , , | Working | August 22, 2018

(My older sister and I are visiting the various monuments and sights of Washington DC. Today we are at an art museum, and my sister happily chats with the security as we go through their metal detector and such. We are about fifteen minutes into the visit, looking at a section which displays “The Art of War,” including items such as weapons and armor. While looking at an amazingly decorated shield, this happens:)

Sister: “Ooh, wow! This is amazing. [My Name], let’s get a picture.”

(As she is taking out her camera, a security guard loudly clears his throat to catch our attention. He points at small sign on the entryway to the room, about the size of a large index card, at waist-height that says, “Please, no photography.”)

Guard #1: “You can’t take any pictures.”

Sister: “Oh, I’m sorr—”

Guard #1: *condescendingly* “Can’t you read?”

(My sister has moderate to severe dyslexia and always struggled with reading in school, so this statement really gets to her. Disheartened, she puts her camera away and starts to leave.)

Sister: *quietly to me* “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay anymore.”

(While I’m usually non-confrontational, this situation has emboldened me, so I approach the guard.)

Sister: *louder* “[My Name], please, let’s just leave.”

(I stop, but can’t help but the notice that the guard is smiling smugly. I take note of his name-tag. As we leave, the security personnel we chatted with at the entrance comments:)

Guard #2: “Hey! Leaving so early?”

Sister: *purposefully leaves without speaking*

Me: “I’m afraid [Guard #1] killed our interest.”

(The second guard’s face turned sour; it seemed to me that they’d had issues before. The rest of the trip was amazing, but we never went to another art museum.)


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Maybe You Should Belt It Out Louder

, , , , , , | Working | August 8, 2018

(The immigration office requires visitors to undergo a security screening of all bags and miscellaneous items like phones, wallets, etc., similar to an airport screening procedure. I enter the building first; my husband comes in to join me after having found a place to park.)

Security Worker #1: “Put your bags, keys, phone, wallet, and belt in the tray.”

Husband: *places his bag, keys, phone, and wallet in the tray*

Security Worker #1: “Make sure your belt is in the tray.”

Husband: “I don’t have a belt.”

Security Worker #1: “You need to put it in the tray.”

Husband: “There’s no belt.”

Security Worker #1: “No belt?”

Husband: “No belt.”

Security Worker #1: *confused, looks again in tray* “The belt needs to go in the tray.”

Husband: *lifting his sweater and displaying the drawstring* “I have this. I don’t need a belt.”

Security Worker #1: *stares* “No belt?”

Husband: “No belt.”

Security Worker #1: “Okay, go through.”

Husband: *continues to the metal detector, manned by [Security Worker #2]*

Security Worker #2: *looks in tray* “Did you make sure to take your belt off?”

Husband: “I have no belt.”

Security Worker #2: *somewhat incredulously* “No belt?”

Husband: “No belt.”

Security Worker #2: *to [Security Worker #1]* “No belt?”

Security Worker #1: “No belt.”

(As it turns out, we need some extra documents to process our request, so we go home to retrieve said documents. Upon our return, I have my husband wait outside and opt to leave almost everything with him in order to simplify the screening process. I enter the building carrying only my phone, wallet, and the requested paperwork. I place these three items in the tray.)

Security Worker #3: “Your keys, too, ma’am.”

Me: “I don’t have keys.”

Security Worker #3: “Your keys.”

Me: *thinking maybe I somehow misheard* “Did you say my keys, or…?”

Security Worker #3: “Your keys. Like your car keys? They need to go in the tray.”

Me: “I’m not carrying any keys.”

Security Worker #3: “No keys?”

Me: “I didn’t bring any with me today. I have no keys on me.” *patting down empty pockets for emphasis*

(Pause.)

Security Worker #3: “No keys?”

Me: *sigh*

Not Even Going To Try To Massage The Truth

, , , , , | Right | August 8, 2018

(My father decides to buy us both 25-minute massages from a small store in a mall. In the store there is one other couple getting foot massages, and a slew of workers. About ten minutes into his massage, my father passes out because he got overheated. When he wakes up, the workers, the security supervisor of the mall, two mall cops, and I are all standing there waiting for an ambulance to arrive. I then hear the security supervisor talking to the lady getting a foot massage, and although I only hear one side of the conversation, I have a pretty good idea of what is being said.)

Security Supervisor: “What?”

Security Supervisor: “No, I can’t massage your feet.”

Security Supervisor: “I don’t work here.”

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