In light of an incident that happened in the mall right next to our office two weeks ago (an unidentified man brandished a gun at our officemate and her boyfriend at a restaurant; thankfully, no one was hurt but the man escaped), I’d like to talk about building security. Does the presence of security guards who make kutkot your bag with a stick actually make you feel safe? Or are they just there so that the building administration will not claim any responsibility for any weapons-related crime that happens inside, since they have after all, “inspected” everyone? Will that make the guests and the building’s tenants feel better?
Since we shoot an average of 5 to 8 locations and houses in a week, this entails the sticky situation of getting everyone in the crew past a building’s security, especially when the place that we’re going to shoot is in a condo. If we’re with a photographer and he has a lot of equipment, more often that not we have to get a gate pass or permit. I totally understand, since these are private residences and they need the best security they can get. But the most ridiculous of experiences I’ve encountered in my entire career was with the Pacific Plaza Towers at The Fort. Their security is notoriously strict, which I get, since they have a lot of high-profile tenants, but their way of handling it is also very discriminatory. I’ve shot quite a number of homes there for this magazine and my past jobs at Pacific Plaza, and I noticed that how they treated me (and also other guests) was based on their “arrival” method that day. Here’s how they let me in based on what I was wearing and what car I took:
Vehicle: Cab + Outfit: Decent office clothes = I don’t even get led to the reception lobby, and am instead directed to the service entrance/elevator at their basement parking
Vehicle: Old Urvan + Outfit: Jeans and T-shirt, with photog Bahaghari in tow, also in the same attire = also led to the service entrance and elevator
Vehicle: A new Opel + Outfit: Cocktail dress (because I had an event after) = I’m led to the reception lobby, but I’m told to wait
Vehicle: My former boss’s BMW Z3 roadster + Outfit: Decent office clothes = I’m led to the reception lobby, graciously asked who I was visiting, and immediately whisked to the elevator.
Take note—this was me, only on different occasions. Same person, different treatment. Nakakaloka, no?
So now, what would you rather feel? Safe? Or humiliated? 