Big pimpin'

Two weeks now since my sleepy little site has gone crazy, security-wise. The guy who's calling for extra security contradicts himself for what he wants frequently, sometimes in the same breath.

I now have, assuming they don't glue any more people in, just under twenty people under me. Some are okay, some aren't. Some are just uncertain, some are lazy.

We did the bulk of the move at the site on Friday and Saturday. Today (Monday) will be the first day the employees will have been in the new area. Unfortunately, one of the two people I have on site is an idiot.

Here's the thing about a sitter shift - you don't move. Usually sitter shifts refer to watching a hospital patient, someone at risk, or a vulnerable point. You don't get a break, you don't get to go to the bathroom, you don't get to leave.

Sound harsh? Maybe.

I've done a couple of suicide watches. You're there to make sure they either don't try, or in case they do manage it to call for help and keep them alive as long as possible.

Think it's appropriate to pop outside for a five minute smoke during something like that?

If your two year old was playing in the backyard near the pool, would you just go inside and start watching tv for a half hour "lunch break"? If so, you're a fool.

While not all sitter shifts are as important, that's the idea behind them. If you really need to leave (bathroom, smoke, gaping wound...) you get someone to cover for you.

But I've got a guy there during working hours (0800-1600) who not only leaves to go get tea, or to stretch his legs (pace, you idiot!), he won't even use the bathroom that's about two meters away from his post. He wanders 100 meters away, through a big chunk of the building, to go to another one.

He feels it's unreasonable to make him stay in one place, and although I was patient the first few times explaining that this is how it works, that this is what the client wants, and that I don't want to keep getting phonecalls at home telling me he's wandering around, I've lost my patience.

He agrees to do what I want every time we speak, but keeps on doing it and then says I'm being unreasonable when I call him on it.

Also, he spends at least a quarter of every hour in the bathroom. He says it's okay because he has some gastro-intestinal issues. I tell him that if he's medically unfit to do the job, he'll have to go elsewhere (i.e. another site) because I need someone who can do the job. This problem isn't in his file, incidentally. It should be.

He claims that nobody could do it, and don't I just love it when a guy who's done security for all of two months to tell me what can and can't be done, I mention myself at the site when the glass fell in. Lots of others manage it, so just because he can't (or won't) doesn't mean it can't be done, or that it doesn't need to be done.

I've got a low priority request in for him to be pulled off. About the only thing he's got going for him is that he speaks fairly good english. Special guards are often from the bottom of the heap, so that's why it's low priority. Although one more complaint and I'll just start pulling doubles and do his shift myself.

There are lots of little stories to relate, but I'm cramping for time at the moment so I'll just give you one that surprised me:

On Friday, I had even more guards than usual (client request for move). One of them was a young woman from Hong Kong. I planted her and another guy at doors we'd propped open, and checked back on them frequently.

As is usual for me, I checked their security licenses and noted down the proper spelling of their names, their phone numbers, and their license numbers (so I can make sure they're paid). Towards the end of the night, one of the relief guards came in nearly seventy five minutes early. I told the on-site special guards that one of them could go home early with eight hours pay (ah, the joys of controlling my own budget, recently swelled as it is) but that they'd have to decided between them which it would be.

The female went for it, because her shift would have ended at 0000 and she had to work another site at 0800. She asked if I could get her a cab, so I did. When it showed, I took her out to it and she told me how much she liked the site, although she'd have preferred if she could have walked around and seen more of it.

I told her that she could always tell Operations that, and they could ask me if I wanted her if a regular position opened up. She seemed to like that.

After seeing her off, I installed the relief guard into his position and started rolling around the site as usual when I received a phone call. It was the female guard, she'd forgotten her umbrella and could I let her in to get it?

Sure. So I did and took her back out to her cab. As she was getting in, she said "You have my number, right?"

I told her I did, assuming that she meant she'd want me to call if there was an opening. But that's not what she said.

"Good. Then maybe we can go out sometime."

And then she got in the cab and left me standing in the rain thinking "What the fuck?!"

Must be my soap. ;)

Two fists, beyotch!

Hee! Some twenty-two months ago, I had my first real altercation with Crazy Cougar Receptionist.

But last night, I got a bit of petty vindication. w00t!

See, last time she called Evil Property Manager up and tried to get him to pressure the client to get rid of me. But this time all the details were observed, and she got served. It went something like this:

Ring. (honestly, morel ike deedeeDOOdoo, but meh)

Rimmy: "Security, Rimmy speaking."

Other Guy: "Hi Rimmy, it's (guy from the bike patrol security company, employed by Evil Property Manager)."

Rimmy: "What can I do for you?"

Other Guy: "Do you have any employees on site? Because there's a car parked in the fire lane out front and if it's one of yours I won't have it towed. It's a (describes car)."

Whee! It's CCR's!

Rimmy: "Yes, it's one of my employees. Tell you what, since it's in your area, why don't I let you in to talk to her. You can ask her to move it, and feel free to be as rude as you like."

Other Guy: "Well, I don't know that I'll need to be rude..."

Rimmy: "Wait until you meet her. I'll come get you at the front."

Other Guy: "Okay then."

So I go and retrieve him and take him to where CCR has come back to do some of her personal Christmas nonsense. I crack the door open, and then announce "Here you go."

Normally she'd ignore me, but she looked up to see who it was and saw someone she didn't know, dressed as security.

CCR: "Hello."

Other Guy: "Hi there. I was wondering if that was your car parked out in front there?"

Her eyes tighten a bit. She remembers too. She darts a quick glance to me. I look as innocuous as possible.

CCR: "Yes?"

Other Guy: "Well, you're parked in a fire lane. Could I get you to move it out of there please?"

CCR: "You're (my company's name). You can't do anything about my car."

Bike patrol guy visibly stiffens. Her attitude and body language are openly hostile, and he wasn't expecting that. He's now realizing why I said he could be as rude as he wants.

Other Guy: "No, actually I'm the landlord's security," jerking a thumb at the patch on his shoulder, "and I have every right to ask you to move your car."

CCR looks straight ahead at her computer, visibly pissed off at being, to her, outmaneuvered. She ignores him for several seconds, while he's getting irritated at the delay. Finally she mutters "(Evil Property Management Company) is going to hear about this tomorrow."

As she starts to get up, I say "Okay" and bring the bike patrol guy outside with me. She doesn't follow very quickly, so we have a bit of time to talk outside.

Other Guy: "What a fucking bitch! Is this the one you told me about that you didn't like?"

Rimmy: "Yup. Any ideas of why?"

Other Guy: "It was all I could do not to make her cry."

Rimmy: "That would have been messy - she wears a lot of foundation and eyeliner."

At this point she comes out and gets into her car. We're about at the rear bumper and the drive is a curve. She starts to back up and manages to chuck the curb rather abruptly. We both turn to look, and her windshield is even with us. She looks pissed and mortified that she's shown such a lack of skill right in front of her two tormentors, so she switches into drive and tried to drive forward at high speed.

Unfortunately, her car is a bit lacking in acceleration so while it makes a lot of noise, she doesn't really move that fast. Nice work, loser!

I have to tell you, I was high on that for the rest of the night. Petty, but so perfect because she can't do bugger all about it! Insert much glee.

Remembrance Day ...

... is a bit stupid. I realized I wasn't the only one who thought that the other day. Canada is the only place that makes a big deal about wearing the poppies, and you definitely get some comments (or at least some looks) if you're not wearing one.

I never wear one.

Not because I'm against the idea of remembering people who killed or aided in the killing of other people (sorry, I mean "people who fought for our freedom"), but because it's ostentatious. It's like the people who apparently would tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree.

Also, I'm pretty sure I had (long time ago, they're dead) relatives who were the ones shooting back at Canadians, so who am I remembering, anyway?

But people get so uppity about it, especially those who've never been shot at or had their "freedoms threatened". I even have one person in mind who would get choked up with emotion thinking of her grandfather who was briefly captured by Nazis back in the day. Not for long, mind you, but he was a prisoner for a little while. He seemed to be pretty okay with it, but she'd get all upset on his behalf. That's the kind of misplaced emotion I'm talking about.

Not that I think it wasn't genuine, that she was getting upset. Just that it seemed an inappropriate response. People often think symbols and the things they symbolize are interchangable, and they're just not.

I'll leave the symbols to the symbol-minded.

Plus, my midnight special guard didn't show up last night so I pulled a double. I may be a bit cranky. That said, here's the obigatory moment to ponder this November eleven:

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from it's dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

"A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the bell of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose." -- Jarrell's note.

Here's an idear...

If you're going to pursue a life of crime... try to remember that some of the things you've done voluntarily can lead to you being identified slightly easier...















































































Twits.

God is an atheist - He doesn't believe in me.

Had a meeting last night with Cookie Monster, who if you'll recall is the guy I answer to at my security company who doesn't generally give a shit about anything at my site. I was pretty sure that the meeting would simply be that we're putting an additional shift on, so I wasn't really expecting much of import from the meeting.

However, it would appear that we're more than doubling my complement of guards, going up to twelve. Overnight I've just become a site of note, simply from the shift count. My budget is probably going to swell to something on the order of a quarter million dollars annually, although I doubt we'll keep this level for that long. And dangled in front of me was taking over the entire complex (we don't have that yet - that's the bike patrol guys of which so many of my blogs have concerned) and putting that underneath me.

I was so surprised at the turn of events, that in the mix of logistics I was trying to compose I completely forgot to get myself a raise out of the deal. Ah well, there's time for that I suppose.

I'm going to be heartily amused if we're still out of there when I expected us to be - in about four months. ULTIMATE COSMIC POWER... itty bitty job duration.

Seacrest out.