Know your place, Ingrate!

Security guards are usually a nice bunch. I mean, they don’t scare you or anything. They check your bag, and greet you and say ‘Finished. You can pass’.

Once in a while though, you will come across a security guard who should have a reality TV series set after them because their days must surely be so eventful. I mean to say, it’s not possible that you happen to be the one person whose nerves they rub wrong. There must be a whole slew of contenders.

There was that security guard who clamped my sister’s car in Garden City when she’d gone inside to have a nice meal with friends, and wanted her to pay a hundred thousand shillings for the privilege of getting back behind the wheel.

Negro, please. You knew that wasn’t going to happen. Why stir up the drama that ensued?

Then there was the other security guard who ordered me to open my teensy weensy money pouch so that he could check it. When I told him that wasn’t going to happen, he threatened to slap me and well…the language became too indelicate to put in print.

Anyway, these S.S.G’s-Special Security Guards to you innocents-are few and far in between. But of course, I have to be the one to bump into them somewhere in the middle. I got skills like that.

I happened to be running late for a meeting this hot and stuffy day when I presented my I.D to one of the two S.S.Gs at this office building. I then, as usual, reached out for the register book to sign my name so that by the time the people in front of me had been waved through, I’d go that much faster. The male S.S.G grabbed my hand and pulled the book away.

”Who are you here to see?!” he snapped.

If this cucumber had grabbed my hand six months ago, it would have been the beginning of a long and colorful diatribe simply for touching me like that alone. But I’m a changed woman, I say. Also, people tend to tell me it’s my fault if I spur with fellow humans. Something about a temper.

So I ignored the fact that I didn’t think it was his business who I’d come to see, as there were perfectly nice receptionists waiting for me past the door, and I ignored the fact that he’d just touched me, lorda’mercy.

I merely, like the lady that I am (hiccup!) told him who I’d come to see. I tried to get the register again, and he pulled it away.

”Who?” he repeated, squinting at my I.D. Once again, I told him.

”Well, stop rushing. Be patient, your time will come!”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. One of those days. I hastened-oh foolish me, too quickly!-to explain my impatience.

”You see, the thing is, I’m really late for a meeting, and I’m trying to speed things up!”.

”You’re late, you’re late!”, he sneered. ”Is it our fault you’re late? Don’t disturb us with your poor time-keeping. I hear you’re late. How is that our problem? Next time be alert!”


”I’m sorry, what?” I gasped slightly. Only slightly. ”I’ve just explained that I’m in a bit of a hurry, and you’re telling me what I should have done with my time, like you know why I’m late to begin with! Who do you think you are? Return my I.D and let me sign in this minute!”

His fellow S.S.G, a female, jumped to the poor defenseless lad’s rescue. She wagged her finger in my face. Wagged it like Jesus was descending any minute, praise the Lawd.

”Excuse me. We don’t want rudeness here. Do you hear? You had better speak to us nicely. Do you understand? Be careful, HEH!? Are you hearing? Speak to us properly!”.

It was patronizing and condescending and I was astonished beyond measure. I begun to open and shut my mouth like a fish.

A media celebrity opened the main door and proceeded to speak with the guards about some guests of his. I had started to tentatively wave my hand to beg his assistance before I remembered that knowing who he was, and following his blog, and kinda being excited to see him in the flesh, was not a reason for us to be more than Facebook friends. I was duly ignored and he and his friends entered the building.

Defeated, I got in line behind the next woman and waited for my chance to have my my bag rummaged through. Male S.S.G was on a verbal roll, you can beliieeeeeve that!

”Disturbing us mbu you’re late”, he continued to sneer. ”Is our time your time?”

Would he ever shut up? He continued mocking me while female S.S.G checked my bag.

”Now listen”, she commanded, as she searched. ”If you have a problem, you speak up. We don’t want you to leave here when you’re angry. Do you hear?!”

Oh, isn’t she charming?

”Well, I think your colleague is really rude for starters”, I contributed. ”Now, can I finally sign in the register?”

”No”, she explained. ”The register is only for those who have laptops and cameras”.

It occurred to me then that maybe these security guards had misunderstood me. They thought I’d wanted to jump the queue as opposed to merely signing in the register. All the same, it didn’t excuse their behavior.

Because in essence, all these S.S.Gs had to say, about ten minutes ago, was this:

”Oh, do you have a laptop or camera? No? Then it’s okay, you don’t have to sign. Just wait in line please”.

My karma had been tampered with for absolutely no reason.

I kept my sour murderous thoughts under control while I rushed to my meeting to be informed that the person I was to meet with had literally just stepped out the door and was on the way to Jinja.


I let my sour murderous thoughts have free reign for a few minutes. They didn’t feel nice so I sent them back, and called up another person who worked in the building, just to say hi.

In the course of our conversation, I mentioned, ”Dude, your security guards were really rude to me”, and he went outside with them to ascertain the identity of these miscreants. He didn’t know these guards were Chuck Norris hard core.

Male S.S.G scoffed and female S.S.G waved her hand dismissively. She shared that scowl that I had now come to know and love so well.

”This one?!”, she sneered. ”The girl doesn’t listen!” She almost spat. I wondered what had happened to ‘Speak up coz we don’t want you to leave here angry’.

I started to take my leave to the sounds of both guards both abusing me roundly. Blood and flesh could bear it no longer. I turned back.

I proceeded to engage in a fair amount of unnecessary and unproductive whining which I ended with, finger snapping triumphantly like a sistah, oh yes: ”Kasta I’ve reported your behavior!”.

”So what?!” Male S.S.G retorted.

There was nothing for it. With my tail between my legs, I fled.  

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