星空传媒

The security industry can be a lonely business, particularly if you're out on a job by yourself and there's no one to talk to or make you a nice cup of tea.

So it's nice to feel appreciated, even when it's by people you wouldn't normally expect to take an interest in you.

The other week, for example, I was doing a bit of work fitting a door entry system to a tower block. As you well know, I'm not one to suggest that anyone else may have made the wrong choices in their lives, but this had to be the single most depressing place I'd ever had the misfortune to visit - and I have been to Magaluf on a stag party.

Anyway, I'm finishing up a little wiring when a group of young lads approaches me. Normally, I'm quite reticent to speak to young people, as I know from bitter experience that they like nothing less than to deliver satirical and hurtful barbs in the direction of their elders and betters.

So this group of kids approaches, and they're all wearing hooded tops and trousers that appear to me as if they have used the incorrect setting on their belts - or perhaps have failed to wear belts at all - and one of them attempts to get my attention.

"Oi, mate!" he bellowed.

I ignored him. This is a cunning technique I sometimes employ in situations where I'm not sure if the person speaking is likely to make fun of me or not. It's difficult, and probably shouldn't be attempted if you don't what you're doing, but the real secret is to pretend as if you are totally absorbed in another task, and are concentrating so hard that you could not have heard them. In this case, I pretended I was concentrating on my work.

I could tell my ploy was successful, because he yelled again. Only this time, it was louder, suggesting that he thought additional volume was the key to breaking my concentration.

I continued my noble ignoring strategy, until one of his friends lobbed a stone at my temple. This smarted just a little, and I think it was my grimace and exclaimed profanity which suggested to them that they had finally got my attention.

Praise for my skills

When I approached them, the gaggle of youths giggled shyly, like schoolgirls at the sight of conjoined dogs struggling in a field.

"What is it I can help you fellows out with?" I asked, the gruff voice of maturity and experience to their high-pitched coquettishness.

"Well, the thing is, mate," the one nominated as their leader ventured, "my mum's gone out and left me and my brother and our cousins locked out of the flat. We were wondering if you could let us back in, with all of your skill at security and stuff like that."

I thought for a moment. Normally I'd brush off youths like these, treating them with an ill-disguised mixture of disgust and fear. I've heard all the stories, from the 'happy slapping' to the 'angry slapping', and from the ASBOs to the ABBAs.

Like many other people, I assumed that at the first opportunity - when I'd turned my back, for instance - they would savagely beat me with their mobile phones and their iPods, leaving me with a 'hoodie' on my head and my trousers, metaphorically, around my ankles.

A request granted

But was I being too harsh? Was I judging these young people - who, after all, are humans just like us, if a little short on good graces - before they'd had a chance to prove themselves?

There's every chance that any one of them could turn out to be another Winston Churchill (or, in their parlance, a 'Wizzle Chachafizzle') if only given the opportunities that we took for granted.

In that spirit, I decided to ignore my natural instincts and allow them access to the flat they had been cruelly locked out of. In a strange coincidence, it was the very same flat I had been using to test the entry system.

I did find it strange that their mother appeared to be bedbound and at least 60 years older than any of her children - but who was I to question the ways of these underprivileged kids?

It warms the heart

Anyway, it turned out that I did exactly the right thing. These young people were simply hungry and thirsty, and made themselves some food from the refrigerator, as well as quaffing a few cold beers in the best British tradition.

Then, I'm pleased to say, these supposedly 'rough' kids gathered up all of their mother's electronic equipment, and put it into various bags and satchels.

Most of it was broken, they informed me, so they were taking it off to be repaired, or in some cases, replaced.

They told me that it was the least they could do for their mother, who had struggled to bring them up without any assistance from their absent father.

They then trudged out of the flat and away down the street, their young backs weighed down with the bulk of the old and malfunctioning hi-fi, DVD player, computer, television and more.

I waved at their rapidly departing backs, and was pleased to see the smallest of them turn and wave back to me, his laughing face a reminder that it's best never to underestimate the goodwill of others - even when you fear them.