My uniform allows me to echo-locate... just like Jesus!

The account manager called me back yesterday morning. He asked me to repeat the incident for him, and thanked me for how I handled it. The pounder won't be back at my site.

Sweet!

And if I ever need anything or have any concerns, here's his direct line and email address.

Thanks dude.

Then he asks about my security background, and general experience other than security. I give him a basic sketch of myself.

And guess what? I apparently have a job waiting for me if I ever decide to switch companies!

Not that I'd want to work for them, but it's always nice to have options. ;)



When I went to work later that day, the client's right-hand-man said that he saw The Sleeper on the weekend when he was in. He said that The Sleeper made a point of being seen, and it was obvious. He also stood near him for about thirty minutes, obviously wanting to say something, but nothing came out. Poor Sleeper.

Also, the right-hand man said that except for when he was first there, and when he left hours later, he didn't see The Sleeper at all. Where the hell was security?!

Jokingly, the right-hand-man told The Sleeper "Okay Lieutenant Sleeper, we're off the site. Secure the exits!"

That explains why, when I came in on my shift, I found The Sleeper's report had two odd entries on it: "Right-hand-man of [site name] on site" and "All exits secured".

I duly cracked up laughing.

I also decided it was time for a random patrol audit. So I had right-hand-man (hmmm, if I can't figure out a better name for him than that, I'm going to start capitalizing it) pull the swipecard logs for security for Monday. Three of us worked that day, so I thought it wouldn't be a bad choice.

My record and written report match up perfectly. That's no surprise, as I write down exactly what I do with accurate times. It's the job.

Palooka did pretty good too, although he did apparently write in one tiny patrol that he didn't actually do.

The Sleeper. My God, all he does is go outside and smoke (I assume).

So I pulled the logs for the entire weekend, which is 2/3 The Sleeper, and 1/3 another guy.

Except for when the right-hand-man was first on site, and leaving the site (where there was a burst of activity for The Sleeper in his attempt to be seen), that old bugger was as immobile as a raddish.

I'm going to pull the records of all of us from whenever I took over after they got rid of Barney. I'm going to collate the stats, and blast them off to Cookie Monster. No fucking way am I going to cover for this asshole.

Then my phone rang. It was the pounder's account manager. He asked if I'd send him off an email recounting what had happened, and he told me that I could probably guess what he was going to do.

The pounder no longer has any site with that company, and it was strongly implied that the account manager was going to try to get his license pulled.

Without that license, you can't do private security in B.C. - and this guy has apparently been in the industry for twelve years.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the guy probably had other strikes against him, as this is a bit of an overreaction to him complaining about me not opening the door for him.

Since this would be a permanent record I'd be providing, I told the account manager I'd have to consult with my own company, and I did.

I was advised that I am to have no further correspondence with the other company, that all further communication should go through my manager (Cookie Monster), and that I was to write up an incident report detailing what had transpired.

And I had to do it now Now NOW because a mobile driver was being dispatched to take it directly to my manager.

Why is this thing escalating so high? I wouldn't have even called the guy's company if he didn't call mine to lodge a complaint. Bah.

On a totally unrelated note, I got stuffed. I took sushi to work, and the site had had their kickoff for the following year, so there was snack food and drink everywhere. Then the cleaners showed up laden with baked goods they'd got from eBay across the street. They're always bringing me stuff from there, because it's too much for them. But they always want me to eat with them. I was already full. :P

Then one of the women upstairs that works late ran out to get herself some dinner, and brought me back a turkey sub, fries, and a drink. Can't...eat...any...more...

But you've got to be polite. I was staggering. :P

Just before I left the site, I notice that a new guy for the bike patrol company had showed up. I guess the account manager wasn't just yanking my chain.

How sad is it that I get quicker results from their managers than I do from my own?