Around the time I was around nineteen or twenty years old, I used to work in a small security job. We were basically a third-party company hired for different events such as concerts, festivals, soccer games, etc., AKA “Rent-A-Cops”. Despite being looked down on for being a younger female compared to the rest of my team, I was always placed at the entrances for the artists to check credentials because I was one of the few who would actually do my job and stop people from going where they were not supposed to go.

This includes the artists of the venue I’m working at, and I’ve had complaints — mostly from rappers or athletes — for not letting them on stage or having the audacity to stop them, period. This is mainly because I have anxiety and I would rather get in trouble for doing what I’m SUPPOSED to do rather than get in trouble for doing something I DIDN’T do. I also don’t keep up with WHO the artists are; I just listen to their music, and it’s not like the security company provides us with pictures to show us who certain people are. To be honest, they shouldn’t have to when credentials exist for a reason!

The main artist of the concert I’m working at has a band name dedicated to imagining a mythical beast. He usually comes in and out through my entrance surrounded by his personal security, and while I am a HUGE fan of the band, I’ve never seen the band’s music videos, so I’m not familiar with his appearance and I hardly see his face since he’s crowded by people.

At one point, one of his security managers walks in and out of the entrance I’m at like he’s looking for something before turning to me.

Manager: “Hey, have you seen [Name]?”

Me: “Um… I don’t know. The shorter guy in the green shirt?”

He gives me a very strange look.

Manager: “No… the tall guy in the red shirt.”

Me: “…”

Manager: “Super tall. Blonde? You know… [Name]!”

I just blink owlishly, trying to figure out why I should know who he’s talking about.

Manager: “THE SINGER?!”

Me: “Oh! Uh, no, he hasn’t been through here.”

He just stared at me for a second longer before leaving with a shake of his head. I, too, was pretty disappointed in myself for not even knowing the singer’s name.

My night security guard patrols the site and watches the cameras. It’s not a job for everyone, but it’s easy work and the pay isn’t bad.

After a series of vandalism issues, we install patrol beacons. Security has to follow a set route and scan the barcodes throughout the shift. The idea is that we’ll know the key areas of the site are being checked at regular intervals, and it doesn’t hurt to make sure they are doing their job properly when left alone.

[Security Guard] instantly has a major issue with this, threatens to quit, claims his rights are being infringed, etc., etc., etc. I tell him to stop being an idiot; this is what he should have been doing all along, it is zero extra work, and it’s in his contract. 

I check the scans one morning after his shift and somehow he is doing the patrol at record speed. Normally, we want a slow walk so they can look around, but [Security Guard] must be running full speed all the way round. For an obese guy in winter gear who often uses a mobility scooter, this doesn’t seem right.

I check the camera footage from the security hut and it’s black; it’s recording but black. Something isn’t right.

After a couple of days with the same pattern, I get up at 2:00 am and go to the site, passing three security cameras. I manage to walk up to the security hut without being questioned and open the door to find [Security Guard] asleep, the camera covered, and a printout of all the security beacons sitting on his desk

I’m angry, but I see his car keys on the desk and have another idea. I take his car and move it behind the skips and out of view. I sneak back to the hut and hang the keys in the key box — which he should also check — and leave.

Despite having little to no sleep, I’m back on site early to check on [Security Guard]. 

Security Guard: “Oh, no, oh, no, oh no!”

Me: “Something wrong, [Security Guard]?”

Security Guard: “Someone has stolen my car!”

Me: “From here?”

Security Guard: “Yes! They must have. They must have taken it when I did my patrol.”

Me: “Oh, no. What time?”

Security Guard: “Why does that matter?”

Me: “If I know the time, I can check the recording. Was it your 8:00 pm or 2:00 am patrol?”

Security Guard: “I don’t know.”

Me: “But you watch the cameras all night. Surely you would have noticed your own car missing? Or did you fall asleep?! Not doing your patrols, like you have been all week?”

Security Guard: “No, I haven’t. I—”

Me: “Your keys are in the key box. Your car is still in the car park; I moved it this morning. Come in early tomorrow for a meeting on your performance.”

He didn’t show, and he never came back after that. We employed another guard the next day. Vandalism is down and we haven’t had another issue since.

My wife’s stepfather used to work at a canning factory. This is probably one of the most bizarre experiences that I can imagine.

One night, my wife’s stepfather was working the evening shift at this canning factory. He and the security guard at the guard shack for the parking lot don’t see eye to eye, and they were arguing. It was a little heated, and my wife’s stepfather suddenly grabbed the guard by the front of his uniform and yanked him out of the booth. Understandably, the guard got up with his fists raised, ready for a fight.

Suddenly, a train went rolling right past the guard shack. This in and of itself is not extraordinary as the factory is actually near train tracks. However, the guard shack is a good 500 feet away from these tracks, and my wife’s stepfather thought it was going to crash straight through the guard shack and kill the guard.

The guard looked at the train going past, rolling into the factory, and turned white as a ghost. This factory did not have tracks going through the factory but rather beside the factory.

Apparently, the city had the street nearby repaved, including the train crossing. The crew, however, did not bother to account for the tracks and simply paved right over them. When the next train came down that line, the train was lifted off the tracks by the pavement and redirected — straight into the canning factory and within a few feet of the guard shack.

My wife’s stepfather and the guard became drinking buddies.

I’m an electromechanical engineer. I was called out to deal with a set of faulty automatic gates. They had gotten stuck in the open position, and it was compromising the security of the building. My job was to find out what had caused them to stick open, fix it, and get them working again.

This particular manufacture of gates uses an encoder to tell the control panel where the gates are in their swing, and it turned out that kids had been riding them and had caused this to go out of calibration.

Recalibration was a simple two-minute job; I put a couple of traffic cones on each side of the gates and set the calibration going. During this process, the gates open fully and then close fully twice at about half the usual speed.

Enter [Woman]. She had parked her white Audi in the secure compound whilst the gates were open, and even though she was only allowed in there to load and unload into her shop, she regularly parked all day in a visitor’s space — totally against the terms of her lease.

I set the calibration going and the gates did their first swing totally open. At that point, [Woman] came out to her car and started her engine.

The gates started to close again, and [Woman] pulled out of her space like a nutjob and accelerated toward the gates, stopping just before the cones but revving her engine like she wasn’t pleased.

Seeing them closing, she pressed her fob button to get them to open, but of course, they were calibrating so they were totally ignoring all instructions from the fobs.

The gates closed fully. The lock mechanism engaged, and they started to do their second swing, at which point she started to roll forward, revving all the time. Just as she touched the cone with her car, she pushed it back and broke the infra-red safety beam, thus aborting the entire procedure and making the gates lock in a slightly open state.

She sounded her horn.

Woman: “Let me out!”

Me: “You caused the processor to fault. Those gates aren’t opening any time soon; it will be at least five minutes before I can restart the procedure as I have to power them totally down.”

I didn’t, but she didn’t know that. She proceeded to start shouting and getting angry, so I just said:

Me: “Sod you. I’m parked outside.”

I locked the control box, walked to my van with my tools in my pocket, and started driving away.

About two minutes later I got a call from the landlord of the building, pleading with me to go back and saying that [Woman] was really, really sorry.

I gave in. I went back and started the calibration again — but this time, I deliberately turned the speed on both motors to the lowest setting, so it took about ten minutes in total.

The woman never did apologise, and she still sped out like an idiot as soon as I moved the cones, but it gave me great pleasure knowing that my malice made her almost half an hour late.

This is during the beginnings of the 2020 health crisis. I decide to take advantage of the low interest rates for mortgages and buy my first home. After searching for a few months, I claim one that’s in my budget before it’s even put on the market and move in on June 1st.

I am a single female in my late twenties. I am also formally diagnosed with social anxiety disorder and am an introvert, making it difficult for me to talk to strangers. In addition, I was raised by a mostly traditional Southern family, meaning it has been wired into me since birth to be polite and courteous. All of these factors combined mean I have a difficult time being rude to people and telling them “no.”

When I first move into my new home, I notice there is an old security system on the wall. I don’t know if it belongs to the previous owners or the owners before them, but I don’t think much of it at the time.

A few weeks after moving in, I get a knock on my door at 7:00 pm. My door does not have a peephole and I don’t have a doorbell camera, so I open the door to see who it is. Standing in front of me is a man who is dress in business casual and has a lanyard around his neck with a badge. He is also not wearing a mask. 

Man: “Hello, I am [Man], the Relocation Manager for [Security System] here to talk to you about our services. I’m sure they mentioned during your closing process that we would come by to visit.”

Me: *Flustered and confused* “No, they didn’t. Neither my agent nor lawyer mentioned you.”

Man: “Oh, well, they should have. Anyway, I’m here to offer you some promotions we have, since you fall into a special group.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Man: “Do you mind if I come in?”

I’m feeling uncomfortable, but Southern courtesy kicks in.

Me: “Sure.”

The man comes into my house and notices the old system on the wall.

Man: “Oh, this is old. We’ll be sure to replace that with a more up-to-date model with a touchscreen.”

I remain silent for the most part, keeping my distance and staying behind him, so my back is never turned to him.

Man: “Do you mind if I see your backyard?”

I point him in the general direction where the hall is, following behind him. My back door is located in my office. He goes into my office, opens the back door, and looks around.

Man: “Nice privacy fence you have there. Criminals also like it because he provides them privacy, too.”

I recognize he’s trying to scare me, and it’s making me annoyed. We head back into the living room where he casually sits on my couch.

Man: “Aren’t you going to come and sit down?”

I’m still keeping my distance, and I’m getting even more annoyed.

Me: “No, I’m fine standing.

Man: “Well, since you just moved, we are offering you a special deal for new homeowners. We can waive all the installation fees and fees associated with new accounts.”

Me: “And how much would the monthly fee be for monitoring?”

Man: “Our lowest package starts at $63.99 a month.”

Me: “I haven’t even been in my house for a month, so I’m not sure if I can afford that.”

Man: “Sure, you can.”

Me: “I would rather wait instead of signing up immediately.”

Man: “Oh, this promotion is only for a certain amount of time, so you need to sign up today.”

Me: “But I don’t know if I can afford it. I need to think about it.”

He pulls out a tablet and proceeds to ask me my name, number, and email. I think he’s taking my contact information to contact me later. Then, he asks for my social security number.

Me: “I don’t feel comfortable telling you that.”

Man: “Don’t worry; it’s encrypted.”

Me: “I still don’t want to tell you.”

He hands me the tablet for me to put it in manually. I start doing so, seeing that it does the stars as I put in the numbers, showing it is encrypted. I hand the tablet back to him.

Man: “And what’s a good card number that I can put in?”

It finally clicks.

Me: “Wait, are you signing me up for the service?”

The man nods.

Me: *Starting to get angry* “I told you I needed time to think about it. I’m not signing up for a service today. I don’t know what my monthly budget will look like yet.”

Man: “Well, your bank wouldn’t have agreed to give you a mortgage if you couldn’t afford it.”

Me: “I don’t know even know who you are. For all I know, you could be lying to me about working with [Security System].”

Man: “My work badge is right here with my name if you want to take a picture.”

I should have done that, looking back.

Me: “I still need time.”

Man: “Well, I can extend the offer a couple of days. Is that enough?”

Me: “No, I would need a couple of months.”

Man: “I can’t do that. The offer is time-sensitive.”

Me: “I’m not signing up for a service when I don’t know what my monthly budget looks like.”

The man stares at me for a few seconds.

Man: “I see you are getting annoyed, so I’m going to leave.”

Me: “Yes, please.”

After he left, I sat on my couch, shaken and scared by the whole event. I know what I did was stupid. I could have gotten hurt or had my information stolen. After I calmed myself down, I immediately bought a different security system out of spite. I tried reporting the guy but found that [Security System]’s customer service is basically nonexistent.