Decades ago, I worked in technical support for a military intelligence unit. We’re talking support for software and servers running mission-critical stuff. 

Naturally, we all have a high security clearance in this unit, but some departments are more restricted than others. For the Highly Restricted departments, no one can enter unless they have been read into and signed a specific secret protection agreement. This agreement is pretty hardcore, including a restriction on which countries you can travel to for up to ten years after service.

One day around noon, we get a call from an officer who works in the department in the next building over. This is one of the Highly Restricted departments. We can do certain things related to their servers remotely, but none of us has the status to physically enter their space.

Officer: “[Highly-Classified System] isn’t working.”

Me: “Okay, I’ve run a ping to the server and it looks like it’s down. I need you to go down to your server room and press the ‘on’ button on the computer, and then let me know, and we’ll see if it gets back up.”

Officer: “No, I’m not doing that.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Officer: “You’re the technical support person. It’s lunchtime. I’m going to lunch, and when I get back, I expect this system to be back up.”

Me: “Your server room is in [Highly Secure Department].”

Officer: “Yes.”

Me: “Physically entering that department would require me to sign a secrets agreement.”

Officer: “Probably. So what?”

Me: “All I need you to do is walk down to the computer and press the button. I’m sorry, but I’m not signing a secrets agreement to go press a button on your server.”

Officer: “This is a critical system. You need to fix it.”

Me: “I agree. So, please go down to your server room and press the button.”

Officer: “No, that’s your job. Like I said, I’m going to lunch.”

I know that my commander will back me up.

Me: “And like I said, I do not have the clearance to enter your server room, and I am not signing a secrets agreement just to press a button. So, I guess call me back in an hour when you’re ready to actually get your mission-critical system back online?”

He went to press the button before going to lunch. Surprisingly, once the server was turned back on, the system worked perfectly.

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 am a passenger passing through airport security, and my attention is drawn to a loud conversation happening in a line parallel to mine. I can see a couple of airport security staff loudly trying to explain something to an older Asian woman.

Airport Security #1: “Ma’am! You cannot bring this on to the plane with you! It needs to be checked in with your hold luggage!”

Airport Security #2: “You cannot bring an electronic item with heating elements onto the plane!”

The older Asian lady starts shouting at them in Cantonese. Eventually, another Asian woman, somewhat younger, comes over and starts shouting at the older Asian woman in Cantonese. Then, she turns to the security staff.

Younger Woman: “Sorry, sirs. My mother didn’t realize she couldn’t bring a rice cooker onto the plane.”

I suddenly realize, with shock, that there is a small one-person rice cooker sitting there in her open luggage. The older Asian lady is still shouting something in Cantonese. The younger woman “translates”.

Younger Woman: “My mother is sincerely apologetic and did not realize that it would be a problem to bring this item on the plane.”

There’s continued shouting from the older lady.

Younger Woman: “Even if it is just a little one and designed for small portions.”

And there’s more shouting from the older lady.

Younger Woman: “We are happy to have this item discarded so that we can make the plane on time, and she won’t be doing this again now that she knows the rules.”

I needed to leave, so I didn’t see what happened next at security. However, I did spot the older lady again, this time shouting at some staff in an electronics store inside the terminal. Her long-suffering daughter was trying to explain, I assume, that this store sold things like international plug adapters, not individual rice cookers.

My parents are from Nova Scotia and have a particular thing about Nova Scotia blueberries. In the early 2000s, my family moved to the US, but we still frequently travelled across the border to visit family and, of course, buy blueberries. This happened during one of the border crossings, and it’s one of our favorite stories to share at family gatherings.

My father and my sister were in the car and pulled up to the US border guard post. He went through the usual questions — Where are you from? Where are you going? How long were you gone? Etc. — and then got to the good stuff.

Guard: “Are you bringing anything back with you?”

Dad: “Yeah, we have about twenty pounds of frozen blueberries in the trunk.”

Guard: “Any fruits and vegetables?”

Dad: “Nope!”

The guard waved them through without a second thought, and my sister burst out laughing as soon as the windows were up. My dad was confused until he realized what had actually been said, and then HE started laughing so hard they had to pull over for a bit. Who knew that blueberries weren’t fruit?!

I’m going through airport security to get home. I have a water bottle on me, but I know it can’t have water, so I just leave the ice and plan to get more before the flight. As I show my ID and boarding pass, I decide to confirm it’s all right.

Me: “Hey, is it okay if I bring this through? It’s just ice.”

I shake the bottle a bit so she can hear it. She looks tired and responds like I’m an idiot.

TSA Agent: “That’s fine. Ice isn’t water.”