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Rules is Rules
Strictly by the book has its own rewards.
When Amos took the security job, his supervisor had one rule: “No one gets through the gate without an official pass, no one.” He emphasized to Amos that every Tom Dick and Mary would do what they could to get backstage to get a glimpse and maybe even a selfie with the hottest arena band of the decade. While Amos had only heard the band’s name and never heard any of their songs, they were popular enough to fill a 30,000 seat venue three nights in a row.
The first night of the three-night tour, seven people challenged the supervisor’s rule, and seven people were turned away. Amos was feeling pretty proud of himself. Of course, his supervisor was watching over him that night and was prepared to back him up if anything went awry.
The second night, however, Amos was on his own in the private parking garage. He was to man the door leading to the back stage dressing rooms. His post was the last in a series of checkpoints people would have to breach before getting to the band members.
A long-haired man dressed in a long dark overcoat approached Amos. He was wearing sunglasses.
“Can I see your pass please?” Amos said.
The man lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head, and said, “Do you know who I am?”
“No, I don’t,” Amos said. “But your pass might have your name on it if you’re suffering from memory loss.”
“Are you trying to be cute? I’m the drummer here. That’s my band and I’m pretty much one of the ones paying your salary right now. We do on in less than 30 minutes,” the man said.
“Sure you are, Buddy. Regional Guardian Services pays my salary. I heard that line three times last night and once tonight already. Need to see your pass.”
“They don’t issue passes for band members. Most people know who we are on sight.”
Amos stared at the man but said nothing.
“Can you call your supervisor here please?” the man asked.
He had never been asked that before. Amos got out his cell phone and called his super.
“Yeah, James. Man here says he’s one of the band members, says he’s the drummer.”
“Okay, sounds good.” said Amos. “I’ll wait for you.”
Amos hung up.
The man claiming to be the drummer pulled out his phone and pressed two buttons. “Yeah, Steve, can you come over to checkpoint 17 in the garage. A guard here named, uh, Amos won’t let me in without a pass.”
“Stop laughing, Steve. I’m serious. Get down here and vouch for me. Bring your backstage pass. He says he needs to see it.”
Amos said, “My super will be here in a few minutes.”
“My tour manager will be here sooner. He’ll bring his pass too. Will that be sufficient for you, Mr. Amos?”
“Not really. Rules is rules. Boss says everyone needs to present a pass, no exceptions.”
“Gotcha. I like that, Amos. I really do. By-the-book kinda guy. Say, when this is all settled, would you like a full time job in security with us? Kind of a bouncer type. We’re always on the lookout for someone we can trust. You are obviously someone we can trust.”
“Uh,” Amos said. “I’m not sure if you’re yanking my chain or if that’s a serious offer.”
“Oh, I’m not yanking your chain, my friend. It’s a real offer. Plenty of travel. You’d sort of be protecting us from others and sometimes from ourselves. I don’t need an answer now, but, oh wait, here’s my formal offer in front of Steve. He’s our tour manager.”
Steve arrived with the drummer’s pass.
“Steve, Amos here might come work for us in security.”
“No kidding?” Steve said looking Amos up and down. “We need somebody that’s for sure. When do you start?”
“Uh, after tonight’s shift probably.”
“Good, good. I’ll draw up some paperwork and we can get you going soon. We’ll discuss hours and salary and all that good stuff then. Sound good? In fact, I’m come down during the show and we can discuss. They don’t need me. I’m just their money guy. Fair enough?”
“Sure, I think.”