Jobs. Worth.

I have been living in my apartment now for about 5 months, most of which I have been pretty much the only resident, so have gotten to know and be recognised by most, if not all, of the staff: security guards, concierge, management team, cleaners that stare at me in the gym and car park attendants. Some even know me by name.

I have been putting off going to the supermarket, but the lack of bottled water, loo roll and other essentials (i.e. slimline tonic) has made this trip necessary, so head out in the car and pick these up. As usual, as is the case for the last 4 months, I wave and smile to the car park security guard on my exit and again on my return later. As usual, as is the case for the last 4 months, the car park security guard waves and smiles (and salutes) back to me. 

I have bought in bulk, so am pretty much laden down with a box of 12 litre water bottles, a jumbo pack of bum paper and several bottles and tins of tonic water so, as this guard is sitting just next to the entrance to the flats from the car park, I ask him to let me in to save me from putting all my stuff down and getting my pass card out. He looks at me, frowns, and just shakes his head and says “security pass”, to which I say that I have one, but it’s in my pocket, and can't he just let me in - after all, "You know that I live here, don't you?

“Security. Pass”

What a dick – I stare incredulously at him for a second, expecting him to laugh and let me in using his pass, but he doesn't even crack a smile! So I struggle to get my wallet out and hand it to him, and he opens the door with my pass instead of his.

Jobs. Worth.