She cried. I felt awful. But African Swine Fever doesn't care about your feelings. The sausage stayed with us. That is the cruelty of the frontline: you are paid to be polite, but you are trained to be ruthless about biology and law.
At the passenger terminal, the technology fades into the background. Here, the frontline is psychology.
The most dangerous part of my job isn't the passengers. It's the cargo terminal at 3:00 AM. customs frontline
A traveler walks toward the "Goods to Declare" lane. They aren't hiding bricks of narcotics. Usually, it’s simpler: $80,000 in unreported cash stuffed into a cereal box, or 15 counterfeit luxury watches wrapped in socks.
We aren't just looking for tax evaders. We are looking for the poison that kills kids on city streets. We are the firewall. She cried
So why do we stay on the frontline?
On the frontline, "nothing" is often a red flag. The sausage stayed with us
Wish me luck. And please—just declare the sausages. Have you ever had a surprising experience at Customs? Share your story in the comments below, but maybe leave out the part about the sausages.