I work in a hospital. One day, we had a woman come in screaming blatantly racist things to our black coworkers.

Woman: “You all belong on the back of the bus! You should go back to Detroit where you belong, [slurs]!”

No one had provoked her; she was just mad when we told her we had to call the doctor for her to put her orders into the system.

Security CASUALLY walked her out as the lady screamed:

Woman: “I’m going to watch you and run you over with my truck when you leave!”

She drove her black truck back and forth for HOURS in front of the hospital. She even got close to the front door and windows with it, driving up on the curb and sidewalk. Security wouldn’t do anything.

Finally, she took off, but security refused to do much about it. They threatened her with, “We’ll call the cops,” but they’d never do that.

In the mid-1980s, I worked for a naval architecture firm. Our building didn’t have a secure entrance; you could just call an elevator from the garage or walk in the front lobby door at any time. Our office suite, however, did have a mechanical cipher lock. It had five buttons, and the office manager regularly reset it to a three-digit code for security purposes. Due to the mechanics of it, duplicate digits weren’t possible for an entry code.

One Saturday, I went in to finish some work because I’d left early on Friday. But when I got to the suite, the code that had worked Friday didn’t work today. I really needed to finish my work, and I didn’t think anyone else would be in the suite, so knocking wouldn’t help. This was before cell phones, so I couldn’t call anyone. Even if I’d had a cell phone, I knew only one coworker’s number, our receptionist.

I went down to our lobby, which had a payphone, and called her apartment. There was no answer. I then started thinking about the cipher lock. With only five possible digits, and using only three uniquely, there were only sixty permutations possible. So, I went up to the suite and started trying all the permutations: 1-2-3, 1-2-4, 1-2-5, 1-3-2, 1-3-4, etc. In less than a minute, I’d hit upon the new code. I went in and finished my work.

On Monday, I went to my office manager and told her how easy it was to crack the cipher lock. She then looked at the lock manual and decided to incorporate simultaneous button presses to make it more secure. I then noticed that we had a new receptionist. The office manager said our previous receptionist had been fired late Friday, and that’s why the door code had been changed.

It was a good thing, then, that she didn’t answer her phone. That would’ve been an awkward conversation.

My company supplies to a very big, very well-known expensive brand you’ve heard of. Getting in and out of the brand’s building is a nightmare, and it’s so time-consuming.

Luckily, if you are a regular, you can get an exception and bypass this. Unluckily, for whatever reason, they are dragging their heels in extending the same courtesy to me, despite the fact that I should be more than eligible.

I grab some bits they suddenly want and drive the two hours to get there. As I arrive at the security gate, of course, they forgot to book me in and I have to wait and wait because no one is answering their phone.

I make an excuse and leave the security office. I manage to blag my way past the service gate and sneak through all the security doors just by carrying a big box and looking like I need doors opened for me.

I make it to the area where they need the parts.

Manager: “Oh, hey, thanks for getting here.”

Me: “No worries. Although, can you make sure I’m booked in next time, please?”

Manager: “I’m so sorry. Wait, who booked you in?”

Me: *Pauses* “Yeah, so, I’ve got to go. Very late already.”

Manager: “No, seriously, this is a secure site. How on earth did you make it inside? You don’t even have a pass.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, that. Well, there’s a good explanation for that.”

Just at that moment, he was interrupted, and I sneaked off. Getting out actually proved harder than getting in! I made friends with the service gate guard and managed to sneak in for months, seemingly completely legitimately.

I worked at a department store on the second floor. In most stores in this chain, this is the women’s floor. I worked full-time and took part-time classes. I was always working.

A particular sixty-year-old dude took my customer service friendliness as “flirting” and did not stop bothering me. He would come to my department almost every day. Coworkers said he’d be looking for me. He was so creepy. He kept giving me his phone number; I would fake smile and slip it in the trash.

I told him I had a boyfriend, though I didn’t, but he didn’t care. He wanted to take me out to lunch, discuss my future, etc. I kept telling him I wasn’t interested. He was always buying small things like a belt, tie, or shirt, and then coming to return them the next day, so it’s not like he was helping my sales goals, either.

I told my manager about it, and she told me to call her when I saw him. It’s a big store, though, so by the time she would get there, he would be gone.

One time, I was closing up three departments thanks to callouts and this dude showed up. I just wanted to hurry up and go through with the transaction. I was in such a rush that I forgot to take the sensor off his shirt. He came back.

Man: “You forgot to take this off.”

Me: “Oh, sorry.”

As I was reaching to take the sensor off, he slapped my hand and smiled this creepy-a** grin.

Man: “Naughty girl!”

I was horrified. I went to security.

Me: “Please get rid of that guy. I’m afraid to drive home! I don’t know if this loser is going to follow me.”

So, one day, I was at my register, and I saw him strolling up. I called security and darted to hide. He went up to my coworker and asked where I was; she said I’d be right back. Instead, security showed up and led him away.

Thankfully, I never saw him again. THANK YOU, SECURITY TEAM!

In 2015, Italy banned plastic shopping bags from supermarkets, instead replacing them with a compostable version. In between the ban and the widespread presence of cloth-backed shopping bags, there was an awkward period of time where the only way most people could carry their groceries was inside compostable bags that weren’t as sturdy as the old ones, which often meant that, in order to not break them, you either had to live a short distance away from the supermarket or you had to have a car ready to plop the bags in.

As a teen at that time, I figured that the fastest way to solve the issue was to simply use an old backpack. The first few times, it all went smoothly, but one day:

Security Guard: “Stop right there. You can’t enter the supermarket with a rucksack.”

Me: *Nonplussed* “Uh… why? I didn’t see any sign telling me that.”

Security Guard: “It’s not obvious why?”

Me: “Not at all. In fact, nobody ever made a fuss before. What’s up with that?”

Security Guard: “Just because you could sneak out unseen before doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Me: *Frustrated* “What does that have to do with anything? I asked why I can’t bring in a rucksack inside anymore.”

Security Guard: *Facepalming* “You’re pretty dense. How could you get away with it before?”

It dawns on me that the guy thinks I am going to shoplift by shoving stuff inside my backpack and then leaving.

Me: “C’mon, man, have you seen the bags they give now? How can I carry them on my bike for two kilometers without them falling off?”

Security Guard: “You should be able to.”

Me: “Again, I want to shop, not to steal.”

Security Guard: “Yeah, right. Leave now, kid, while you still can.”

I was tempted to argue, but a glance at a nearby clock told me it was not worth the time. I turned my back and went to shop somewhere else. I know people in some areas shoplift a lot, even teens, but do they do it often enough to turn away people with backpacks on principle?