DISCLAIMER: This section features my repertoire of jokes, funny texts and funny stories (mostly) regarding the profession I (used to) excert. Some of them are true, some of them are (slightly) exaggerated but they are all rooted in an excisting situation. Any similarity to existing persons (alive or dead) or situations are of course not purely coincidental but they are kept vague enough not to target anyone or any organisation in particular. However, should you think this page is about you, just remember that one song by Carly Simon : "You're so vain".

I USED TO BE A SECURITY GUARD.

I used to be a security guard. I know security guards are often perceived as moronic knuckle dragging Neanderthals and not in the good sense.

But I was not. I was part of a crack team. That does not mean we were experts. We were all addicted to crack.

My team once saved some people from a burning building. The press called us heroes and heroines. They were half-right.

I think I know why people in general dont like security guards. This is because you are jealous. You are jealous because we get to wear the cool uniforms. And Michael Jackson is the ideal babysitter.

A security guard's uniform always looks like its been designed by a colour-blind spastic five-year-old. My uniform consisted of a lime green coloured shirt, shit brown pants and a necktie that looked as if it came from a Hitler youth accessories surplus sale.

I caught a burglar once. Im using the verb "to catch" very loosely here. What actually happened was: I saw him. He saw me. He saw my uniform. He collapsed laughing.

That little event changed my life because I found out later he was in possession of a gun. He was "carrying a piece". He was "packing heat". Packing heat for me meant lugging around a videotape of the movie with Robert De Niro and Al Pacino.

We were not armed. Management figured that in case of a terrorist attack we would know what to do. And we did ! In case of a terrorist attack we would get the heck out of there and let Bruce Willis handle things.

The closest thing to a weapon we had was a flashlight. The ones we carried were about 30 centimetres long and 3 centimetres thick. They had the uncanny ability of giving male Security Guards an immediate feeling of inadequacy and female guards a big grin.

But they were fairly useless a weapon. The best option you had was to switch them on and pretend you were holding a lightsaber. Let me assure you most intruders are not impressed by a flashlight and a security guard going "Fwooooooommmmm".

But they did give light. Boy, did they give light ! If you switched them on everyone in a 5-kilometer radius would get out of bed thinking the sun had come up. If you pointed them upwards they would interfere with weather satellites. Those white spots you see on weather maps aren't clouds. That's a single security guard holding up a flashlight.


One of the main tasks of a security guard is to walk rounds. Walking rounds at night mostly involves checking out dark and creepy corners you would not even get caught dead in during the day. Mainly because you had indeed an actual chance of getting caught dead in them...

So you can imagine we were all extremely ecstatic when were offered bulletproof vests. We were also ordered to wear another vest with the company logo on it over them. It protected us from the rain and wind but unfortunately were the same vests used by the people who work on airport runways. Meaning they were bright orange with reflective / fluorescent white strips.
Great if you wanted to go to a costume-party dressed as a Power Ranger. Not so great as we now were glow-in-the-dark targets for every potential sniper in the Northern hemisphere.

A very obscure saying learns us: "If you do something, do it to the fullest". Apparently this also applies to stupidity. Being bright balls of fluorescent light and thus an easy target for every possible assailant during a round, we still had one thing going for us. We were silent. We were as silent as the "p" in "psychiatry". (Unless you are of those people who insist in pronouncing it "Puh-sai-kai-atry" which will eventually get you the slap in the face you darn well deserve, you illiterate freak of nature.)

't Was the night before Christmas and no sound could be heard... except for the security guard using the £*$%^# new scanners they gave us.
In order to have proof a round was actually being walked, several chip-resembling recognition points are placed along the way. The security guard has to hold a scanner against such a point to confirm he actually was there at a specified time. Simple task so it had to be changed.

The old scanners made a faint noise to let the user know the chip-point was correctly read. This noise sounded a bit like a drop of milk falling into a cup of coffee. Silent, non-threathening in short : smart.
The new scanners produced a noise that can only be described as Whitney Houston hitting the high note in that song from "The Bodyguard" being accompagnied by the THX-trailer at top volume while standing next to Space Shuttle taking off... only much much louder.

Now you may think that being weaponless, glow-in-the-dark and incredibly noisy, we would be so vulnerable we would not dare to go out into the dark. Well, you are wrong. Of course we were vulnerable but there was one thing we could always depend on. No silly ! Not our brains. But our radio.

The portable radio that would always keep us in contact with "heydjkjew". (Thats "Headquarters" for those among you who are not very good in phonetics.) The two-way radio enabled us to have perfect contact with whomever we where trying to reach provided they were standing within shouting range.

I am certain you know the kind of radio I'm talking about. They can always be seen in Vietnam-films when the poor schmuck who is carrying the 3-ton behemoth on his back gets shot along with the radio so the protagonists cannot call for back-up. This also illustrates the second rule of survival in Vietnam-films : never ever carry the radio. (The first rule of course being : never ever ever ever show a picture of your fiancée, wife or relatives.)

Come to think of it, the reason why the radios we used were slightly worse than two cans tied together with a string may well have been caused by the Vietcong-bullets we regularly still found logded into them.

Fortunately we were lucky to have the one thing a security guard cannot miss to get through his shift. No... not his brain. We went over this already, stupid ! I am talking about the coffee machine.

This thing was huge and ancient. It must have been constructed by a long forgotten civilization around the time Atlantis got wiped off the map.
Each time it started a cycle to produce a coffee, it would shake at a tremendous speed. Parts of it were swapping place and were either sucked in or new parts emerged, leaving us with a completely differently shaped machine after each cup.
It appeared to be a marketing ploy gone badly, as I cannot remember ever having seen a Coffeebot in the Transformers cartoon.

And although it had buttons, allowing the choice to have your coffee black or with added cream and sugar it only served this one deep dark sludge. The kind dinosaurs drowned in.
We send a cup of this "coffee" off to a laboratory to determine once and for all what exactly the sludge was made out of. They never answered us. I can only assume the contenance of the cup escaped, killed all the scientists and is now in a furious battle with a deep covert group of military experts trying to keep it from taking over the world.

Lets hope they are not a crack team.

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