I work security at the front gate of a working-rich community so I get a lot of calls from angry people asking me to dispatch guards for situations where there’s no way we could help. One old lady wanted the patrol guy to drive her to Newport Beach after his shift ended. Another man drove up to the back of the shack and sent his 6-year-old son out with a garbage bag held at arm’s length away because it contained a dead rabbit that had been on their lawn. Another lady called me furious that I had let a solicitor on property and when I ran the plate, it was a woman from the Census Bureau that the resident was calling about. And I received this call today.
Man on phone: Hi, this is Mr. Such-And-Such from Address. I have a hive of hybrid Africanized bees on the side of my house.
At this point, I paused to have a small heart attack. I mean, did he want me to send someone out with a stick? With all the “There’s a dog running around. Go get it.” calls I get and the inevitable “What do we even HAVE security for?”, I was a little worried.
Mr. Such-And-Such: So I need you to let Bee Busters in at 4.
I laughed out loud and thanked the Baby Jesus.