Open Letter to the Security Guard Inspecting Bags
Dear Security Guard Inspecting My Bag,
Let me start this letter by saying that I appreciate your job. Really. I'm not just saying that, okay? I really do appreciate it! I mean, it is for the safety of the general public. And, I suppose, because of your efforts, those people who like explosives become a tad scared to openly bring their weapons.
Let me add that I also admire your stamina. Really. I mean, standing there in the doorway for hours on end just to look inside the bags of a million people who don't even look at your face must really be emotionally and physically exhausting. And not to mention boring. That must really sap the energy out of you, huh?
And when you're not doing the tedious work of looking inside bags, you hear the constant beeping of your hand metal detector. WOW, I can't imagine how you can survive a day with that thing going BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. I'd go crazy, I really would.
Here's a little story about me and them metal detector thingies.
There was this one time when I went inside a mall I always pass through to get home, and the security guard who was always there was there. As always. Anyway, the metal detector of the security guard who was always there beeped when it passed by my bag... And then the guard didn't do anything and let me pass. On a whim, I turned around and went back to ask him what it means when the wand beeps like that. He told me, and I quote, "It means there's metal in your bag."
Hmmm right. Correct me if I'm wrong, because I'm sure you know more about metal detectors than I do: didn't that mean that he had to thoroughly check my bag? I mean, he said it with his own mouth! Er...okay, maybe he didn't exactly say it, but work with me here. If the metal detector detects metal, aren't we entitled to think that that metal could be a gun and the bag that contained the metal that was detected by the metal detector should be inspected? That security guard should be sacked, right? Yeah. That's what I thought. I'm glad we're on the same page.
Dear friend, continue to do your job well. I hope you have a happy memory you can think about when people look at you angrily because you're delaying their rush to work. Hey, you're just doing your job, too, right?
And don't let that other security guard beside you distract you by chatting with you while you work. Unlike you, she doesn't know that chatting like that takes half of her much-needed focus, and she might not see the knife hidden deep inside the bag she just poked her stick in.
I promise that I will try to brighten up your day when I pass by you. I will open my bag for you to inspect properly, and then I look at you in the eye and smile at you and say, "Thank you." After all, you're not one of those security guards who just waste my time by stopping me to "check" my bag and all they do it poke a stick in, and they don't even look deep enough in my bag to see the box of cookies which could actually be a box of explosives. Those security guards should be sacked, and should instead get another job that doesn't actually require brain activity, but for the life of me I can't think of job like that, since all kinds of work, no matter how small, requires a worker's capacity to think, and, more importantly, the emotional quotient to decide that he should do his job well.
But you're not one of those security guards, right? Right. For that, I thank you.
That's all I have to say, and I hope that you won't get sacked any time soon.
Love,
Sarah.
Let me start this letter by saying that I appreciate your job. Really. I'm not just saying that, okay? I really do appreciate it! I mean, it is for the safety of the general public. And, I suppose, because of your efforts, those people who like explosives become a tad scared to openly bring their weapons.
Let me add that I also admire your stamina. Really. I mean, standing there in the doorway for hours on end just to look inside the bags of a million people who don't even look at your face must really be emotionally and physically exhausting. And not to mention boring. That must really sap the energy out of you, huh?
And when you're not doing the tedious work of looking inside bags, you hear the constant beeping of your hand metal detector. WOW, I can't imagine how you can survive a day with that thing going BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. I'd go crazy, I really would.
Here's a little story about me and them metal detector thingies.
There was this one time when I went inside a mall I always pass through to get home, and the security guard who was always there was there. As always. Anyway, the metal detector of the security guard who was always there beeped when it passed by my bag... And then the guard didn't do anything and let me pass. On a whim, I turned around and went back to ask him what it means when the wand beeps like that. He told me, and I quote, "It means there's metal in your bag."
Hmmm right. Correct me if I'm wrong, because I'm sure you know more about metal detectors than I do: didn't that mean that he had to thoroughly check my bag? I mean, he said it with his own mouth! Er...okay, maybe he didn't exactly say it, but work with me here. If the metal detector detects metal, aren't we entitled to think that that metal could be a gun and the bag that contained the metal that was detected by the metal detector should be inspected? That security guard should be sacked, right? Yeah. That's what I thought. I'm glad we're on the same page.
Dear friend, continue to do your job well. I hope you have a happy memory you can think about when people look at you angrily because you're delaying their rush to work. Hey, you're just doing your job, too, right?
And don't let that other security guard beside you distract you by chatting with you while you work. Unlike you, she doesn't know that chatting like that takes half of her much-needed focus, and she might not see the knife hidden deep inside the bag she just poked her stick in.
I promise that I will try to brighten up your day when I pass by you. I will open my bag for you to inspect properly, and then I look at you in the eye and smile at you and say, "Thank you." After all, you're not one of those security guards who just waste my time by stopping me to "check" my bag and all they do it poke a stick in, and they don't even look deep enough in my bag to see the box of cookies which could actually be a box of explosives. Those security guards should be sacked, and should instead get another job that doesn't actually require brain activity, but for the life of me I can't think of job like that, since all kinds of work, no matter how small, requires a worker's capacity to think, and, more importantly, the emotional quotient to decide that he should do his job well.
But you're not one of those security guards, right? Right. For that, I thank you.
That's all I have to say, and I hope that you won't get sacked any time soon.
Love,
Sarah.
Labels: letters, life, randomness, rants
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