Leveling Up

Today I made the decision to continue moving forward in my work as a Level 3 commissioned security officer. In many ways, this is that day — the point where long-standing concerns turn into deliberate action.

Since I started my remote job about four months ago, it’s been in the back of my mind that the position might not be permanent. Over that time, the company has steadily reduced staff. Yesterday, I was told by the program manager that a significant number of employees have already been let go and that I’m likely among the last remaining members of the team.

With that knowledge, it’s clear that I’ll probably need to secure something stable in the near future. Combined with a recent situation involving a new supervisor that I fell under only a few days ago, it reinforced the sense that this role isn’t as stable as it once appeared.

Over the past year working with my security company, I’ve gained experience in the field and learned the structure of the work. Up to this point, I’ve been operating as a Level 2 officer — unarmed — focused mainly on foot patrol and access control.

Those responsibilities built a foundation in awareness, communication, and presence. Transitioning to Level 3 means performing similar duties, but in posts that require an armed officer because of the specific challenges involved. As of now, I am operating in that Level 3 capacity — armed and entrusted with the added responsibility that comes with it. That added responsibility carries weight, and I take it seriously.

What ultimately pushed me to actively pursue more Level 3 posts was the altercation yesterday with that new supervisor. It forced me to examine the kind of environment I’m willing to operate in.

I’m not willing to work in a space where my job feels like it’s dangling over me because of someone on a power trip. I know this isn’t unique to me. Many people find themselves under supervisors who struggle to balance authority with professionalism — people who become petty or power-hungry and like to crack an unnecessary whip.

That kind of atmosphere drains focus and undermines the work itself.

Investing in a bulletproof vest and the equipment that comes with this role is about preparedness. On a literal level, it’s about meeting the requirements of the job.

On a broader level, it feels like I’m arming myself in life — not in a dramatic sense, but in a practical one. I’m equipping myself to keep moving forward, to put food on the table, pay the bills, and maintain stability.

In a simple way, security equals security for me: the work I do to protect others is also what protects the foundation of my own life.

I’m also clear with myself that this isn’t a permanent career identity. Security work represents stability, not passion. It’s a paycheck and a foundation — something I’m capable of doing well that keeps the lights on and the mortgage paid.

When the opportunity arises to step into a role that aligns more closely with my long-term direction, I’ll take it. At that point, this field may shift to the background as a side stream of income.

There’s no shame in pragmatic decisions. Sometimes adulthood is about choosing what works while you build toward what’s next.

This step forward is about responsibility and realism. It’s about recognizing the environment around me and preparing accordingly.

Today marks a deliberate shift — reinforcing my stability, accepting added responsibility, and continuing to move with purpose.