A thankless task but someone in Hong Kong has to do it – meet the men and women who keep people and property safe while everyone else sleeps
- Long hours, low pay, and complaints: who would want to be a security guard?
- Older people make up most of 309,000 that hold permits, while younger generation are not interested
Chan put on his security guard uniform a decade ago, and remembers it being a struggle.
“I thought the job was for retirees and people who just want an easy way out,” says Chan, whose company would not allow him to reveal his full name.
He was just over 50 when he lost his job at the publishing plant where he had worked for years, and felt there was no choice but to become a security guard.
Chan’s story is not unique. Many security guards had other careers, often in the disciplinary forces or in sunset industries.
Today, more than 309,000 people in the city hold Security Personnel Permits allowing them to work as security guards. Around 60 per cent are over the age of 50, and these older workers include about 6,400 in their 70s, and 349 who are over 80. Many of the older guards work in old office buildings and housing estates.
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Henry Pai Chun-hang, a 30-year-old marketer, says he would not consider a career in the industry because he would “feel trapped and bored.”
Under the impression that many security guards are “irresponsible gossips”, clerical worker Carol Cheung Mei-chu, 43, says it is unlikely she would take up a career in the field, even after retirement.
“My friend works in property management and they receive complaints from tenants every day, but are never shown appreciation for resolving problems,” she says.
Official data shows a steady decline in the number of security personnel younger than 54. Industry veterans and employees believe the long hours, challenging nature of the job and a poor image combine to put off younger people.
But the Hong Kong Security Association (HKSA), which represents around 150 local security companies, believes improving the quality and range of training opportunities, and giving proper recognition to outstanding workers, could help turn the situation around.
“People used to assume security personnel were either ex-criminals or layabouts,” says chairman Gary Bukowicki. “The reality is, a good security professional is someone who is trained, devoted, alert and aware of his duties.”
Long hours and complaints
Chan, now 61, works the graveyard shift at a company’s staff quarters in Tai Po for 12 hours a day, six days a week.
“The hours are way too long. Commuting takes one to two hours, and when I get home, I’ve got to eat, shower, do the laundry, and so on,” he says. “If I’m lucky, I get six to seven hours of sleep.”
Every night at work is a mix of complaints, patrols, emergencies, and waiting. On most nights, complaints from residents keep him busy.
“It’s almost always about noise – water dripping from air-cons, blasts from ships’ horns, and even birds chirping at dawn,” Chan says with a chuckle. “I’ve had residents ring me up and ask why their walls are damp. It’s spring in Hong Kong – what do they expect?”
Some nights are more eventful. Chan recalls the mainland Chinese woman who stormed into the housing estate with a young son in tow, not long after he started working there. She arrived wielding a hammer.
“I believe she was a mistress, because she was banging on the door of a male resident, demanding money. When he didn’t respond, she tore his gate and door down with the hammer,” Chan says. In shock, he called the police.
In addition to patrolling the two-block premises twice a night, Chan is also keeps a constant lookout for leaking pipes, malfunctioning lifts, car thieves, loan sharks trying to get into the block, and suicidal individuals attempting to jump. He has seen them all.
Residents would file complaints against me for not greeting them. Serving residents is a lot trouble
“Watchmen used to be able to get away with napping and standing around, but not any more,” he says. “With surveillance cameras everywhere, we’re being watched. And we mustn’t forget the residents who turn up at the guard post in the middle of the night, hoping to catch us slacking.”
The shopping centre guard
Yu Mei-wan moved from working at public housing estates to shopping centres early in her 17-year career, to get away from trouble with residents.
“I would be busy with chores or assisting senior citizens, and residents would file complaints against me for not greeting them,” says the 63-year-old. “Serving residents is a lot of trouble.”
For the past six years, she has been single-handedly manning the overnight shift at a two-storey shopping centre in Tai Po, patrolling the premises every two hours during her 8½-hour shift, snapping photos of all 30 shops twice a night to prove that she had done her rounds, checking for leaks and faulty lighting, as well as loiterers.
“It used to be hooligans, but nowadays we usually get middle-aged people sitting around, gambling and drinking at the mall, or charging their phones and watching films using the mall’s power points,” she says.
Like Chan, Yu became a guard after her workplace shut down in the early 2000s and she was made redundant. She had been working in the operations department of the Motorola factory and was in her late 40s.
Friends suggested that she become a cleaner, but Yu did not think she had the stamina for that. Still, being a security guard has taken a toll on her health.
Although the shopping centre has only two storeys, she has to patrol all five floors of the stairwell that connects the podium to the car park in the basement – a task that is challenging because she has a bad knee.
“Walking up the stairs is fine, but walking down the stairs is unbearable,” Yu says. She tore her meniscus on duty a few years back, when she tried to secure a glass door during a typhoon. Since then, she has experienced chronic pain.
Bukowicki says industrial buildings and remote locations, such as construction sites, are especially challenging for older security personnel.
“It’s hot and sweaty enough walking down 15 floors in an industrial building while on patrol. Imagine what it’s like for someone over 50,” he says.
Yu says she felt she has no choice because she needs to make ends meet. The job allows her to help provide for her elderly parents and in-laws, and working the night shift frees her to accompany older family members to medical appointments during the day.
She now makes around HK$9,000 a month, but says she would rather earn less than work longer, or extra shifts. In six years, she says, she lost three colleagues to sudden death during their sleep. They were all in their 60s.
“People in our industry work 12-hour shifts, six days a week, for a relatively higher income of around HK$13,000 to HK$14,000,” says Yu, who is vice-president of the HK Buildings Management and Security Workers General Union. “When I see colleagues taking on more than that, I tell them it’s just not worth it.”
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Manpower shortage
While Chan is willing to give up a portion of his HK$18,000 monthly salary for shorter hours, he has found it difficult to find jobs with shorter shifts.
The HKSA says most security companies require staff to work 12-hour shifts instead of 10, or eight-hour shifts because the industry is short of manpower.
Limiting the number of hours per shift would be a “threat” as hiring more manpower to improve the shifts will raise the cost of security services, and that will not go down well with clients.
“You won’t have time to live a good life if you work 12-hour shifts,” Bukowicki says. “But fewer hours means more manpower, and more manpower means more money. It’s always been challenging to get clients to pay for it.”
The association estimates that only around half the 309,000 permit holders work full-time. Yu believes the rest prefer working at events for around HK$50 an hour – more than the HK$34.5 minimum wage.
The shortage of manpower, and the desire to earn more, has prompted some of Chan’s colleagues to work extra shifts, sometimes up to 36 hours.
“It’s irresponsible,” he says. “Those colleagues would doze off on their shifts. I feel tired too, but I would never let myself nod off because I know my work is important.”
Chan has come a long way since that initial dread of putting on his security guard uniform. He now takes pride in his work.
“I feel proud knowing that people trust me enough to ask me to accompany them to their flats because they’re worried about being followed,” he says. “It also feels good when residents drop by for a chat.”
Recognition for a job well done
Public recognition and official awards, such as the Best Security Services Awards by the Hong Kong Police Force, have helped Chan see his profession in a new light. He hopes it will help others recognise the professionalism of the industry, and attract newcomers.
“It’s a thankless job, but I think awards like these help improve the image of security personnel,” he says. Chan has yet to win any awards.
In 2018, to raise public awareness towards the efforts of security personnel across the city, the HKSA held its first Hong Kong Security Personnel Day on 24 July.
“We picked the date because we want to remind people that security personnel keep them safe 24/7, although they’re often neglected,” Bukowicki says.
Around five years ago, the Education Bureau set up the Industry Training Advisory Committee for security services. The committee consists of employers, employees, professional bodies and regulatory bodies of the security industry, and functions as a platform for members to exchange views on the development of manpower in the industry.
While the HKSA believes the committee’s work in implementing a new, systematic curriculum could help young recruits see a future in the industry, Yu is sceptical: “We get to meet and speak with all sorts of committees, but they never listen. It’s a waste of time.”
Yu notes that there are young people joining the industry – just not as full-time frontline staff because freelance positions pay more.
With these conditions, I don’t see how the industry would be able to attract young people
The next generation
Lawmaker Kwok Wai-keung from the Federation of Trade Unions says it would be more realistic to expect young recruits to join the industry as higher-level staff.
“Frontline security staff are paid minimum wage, or near-minimum wage, and have to endure long working hours,” he says. “With these conditions, I don’t see how the industry would be able to attract young people, who tend to place emphasis on work-life balance and having time for further education.”
Meanwhile, Yu thinks security personnel could benefit from more training to give their skills and public image a boost.
“Many recruits don’t understand the value of training, and are not given opportunities to practise before they start work. This means it’s easy to forget what you’ve learned,” she says.
Workers are required to complete only 16 hours of training to get their security permits. The HKSA suggests raising that to 24 hours, and to have refresher courses.
“Hong Kong was the leader in making training mandatory. But now, it’s lagging behind other countries such as South Africa, the UK and Australia,” Bukowicki says.
Security personnel are required to undergo 36 days of training in South Africa, 44 hours in Australia and 24 hours in the UK.
“Putting more hours into training would mean they can familiarise themselves with the necessary tools and technology, and learn more about customer service, even before they start work,” he says.
Further training is the last thing on Chan’s mind. For now, the promise of a regular pay cheque is all he needs to get him through every long night.
