My doorman’s licence was due to expire, and I wasn’t sure weather I should stay on the door or just go. It was a matter of principal because I was too tight to pay for the licence. It just din’t make sense. Why should I pay out money for another one? I was working the doors to make money – not bloody well spend it. The problem was that I loved door-work. It was a buzz. Exiting. On the flip-side, I didn’t like the person that I was becoming. Even my own parents didn’t recognize me. It was like their son had gone, and now someone – or something else was there instead. I noticed it many a time, when I saw different looking eyes gazing back at me in the reflection of a mirror…
One of the newish lads on the doors, Adam, worked in the day as a security guard. He told me how the company was going to pay for the new SIA security licence for all it’s security staff. He gave me an application form. he put in a good word for me. I got an interview, and got the job. The problem was – I didn’t really want it. I felt like a right w@nker, walking around boot’s chemists dressed as the Big Bossman. I hated that! …but, I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t go back on the door without my badge – so, I just had to play the waiting game and put up with it for now. The minute I had my certificate and badge – I was gonna sod right off and go back on the doors.
The job was all or nothing. Either quiet and boring, or it could be some heroin addict with HIV or hepatitis, trying to stab you with a dirty used drug needle. Rest assured, I showed those dirty, low life scrotes no quarter. I’m NOT going to lie and say that that it didn’t scare me. It did scare me. There was an element of fear when something like this happened, and being afraid does not make you a coward. It’s a natural survival instinct. Anyone who says they are not afraid in these situations is either telling a blatant lie – or a psychopath. I’d had knives pulled on me while I used to work on the doors, and knives can end your life in an instant, but for some reason the drug needles were even more frightening. Being stabbed with a used drug needle that could infect you with a STD just felt a lot more terrifying.
These drug addicts were the sort of individuals who would push someones grandmother down the stairs, beat her withing an inch of her life, and rob her of her pension money for their next fix. Most of my professional life Iv’e had to deal with a lot of really hard men, but men with some morals. Your old school hard case would never attack a woman. As violent as any of these men could be, they would be gentlemen around women and their elders. With drug addicts there is none of that old school morality. They won’t fight you one on one, and they wont fight unarmed either.
Iv’e been there. Iv’e witnessed drug addicts shaking like a leaf, and breaking out into a sweat because they are so desperate for their next fix. Withdrawal symptoms. They used to come into the store when they were on a methadone program. You see – Boot’s Chemists supply them with methadone. The addicts get it for free, all payed for by good honest, hardworking, law abiding tax payer. This is a substitute for heroin. The idea is that it’s there to get the addict off the heroin. Sound’s like a good thing, right? In reality, the addict is substituting one addictive substance for another one. Methadone is far more addictive than heroin. That’s a fact, and if you don’t believe me – do your own research. Boot’s get payed pure money – like you would’t believe for this. Funding from the government. So, if you want to become a drug dealer and make the big money, without the risk of going to prison – get your arse off to college or university, become a pharmacy student, get a qualification that’s nothing more than a licence to sell drugs.
Another thing that was common, mums taking their teenage daughters to the counter for the “morning after pill” or some other form of contraceptive. I’m talking girls who were 13, 14 years old and so on… It’s bad shit. I just remember thinking to myself at that time, has society come to this? You would think that over time, humans would evolve. Get smarter. Not the case here. Especially with the addicts. They had all the collective intellect of a retarded egg yolk. Some of the store management weren’t much better. Oh, and “PC Police”? …Oh, no. You can’t call them drug addicts. No, no, no! You MUST call them a patient, or else you’re discriminating. …BOLLOCKS! …That’s nowt more than a load of politically correct sugar coated bullshit. If you’re a drug addict – you’re a drug addict.
Needless to say, I didn’t stay in that job. Hated it! Besides the security company were a bunch of liars! They weren’t going to pay for my licence at all. They wanted guards to pay for it themselves. It was blatant lie all along. When the time come that I had no choice but to take the licence – I buggered off and quit. I’d had enough of dealing with the dregs of society and the bureaucrats. I didn’t want to be in that environment anymore. Sod living like that for a game of soldiers. I’ve never looked back.