The Un-Security Guard

So, after one of my crazed co-workers showed up two days in a row with a shotgun in his car, our Area Office decided that our pleas for a security guard has some merit. So, they contracted with a private Rent-A-Cop agency to provide us a CLEET certified armed guard.

Day one with security was nice. The man was a former cop, early sixties, and BIG. He certainly made me feel safe.

However, on day two of security, we got our permanent guard. Apparently the big guy only works the first day to scope out the place and decide who would be best for our office. Our permanent guard looks to be a few day shy of 75. Built like the lovable Barney Fife he hardly makes me feel safe.

Add to this that most days he can be found sitting on the table in front of the vending machines as if pondering his snack options. The problem with this is that our vending machines are in a room midway between the public and secure parts of our office. The only other thing in the room is the elevator.

If this security guard is staring at the Chili-Cheese Fritos and Snickers bars, he is most certainly not looking out for trouble...wherever else it might be.

I'm pretty sure the snacks will not go postal.