A short, pudgy man in a dark, navy uniform leans against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes attentive. The man is dressed sharply, his uniform nicely tucked in, his pants pressed. Every indication is that he is a police officer, except for the shoes.

This man, who appeared to be a legitimate law enforcement officer, was wearing a pair of generic, velcro shoes. You know, the kind that cost you $4.99 at Payless. Then I noticed all he was equipped with was a small flashlight and a bottle of pepper spray. Yes, he was a rent-a-cop.

But this stout fellow was hardly running security in the Cross County Mall. No, this man was a Saturday security officer in the lobby of one of this nation’s most-recognized skyscrapers – the John Hancock Building.

And this wannabe police officer was not ensuring no one shop lifted a pair of Nikes. What was he doing?

“I’m here to make sure no one brings a bomb into the building,” he told a curious lady sitting to my right and me.

There we were, two strangers waiting to be called for our respective tables in a restaurant, and there he was searching bags in a building that’s just as well-known to most of the country as the World Trade Center towers in New York.

So for about the first 20 minutes, I sat there watching the man stop nearly a dozen young women to search their purses. He’d ask them to stop, place their purse on the floor and step back as he used his small flashlight to help peruse through their personal belongings. After about 30 seconds or so, he’d determine the coast was clear and let them go on their way.

Nearly all the women would then ask, “Could you tell me where the restroom is?” They all had simply left the overflowing restaurant nearby to use the facilities in the Hancock’s lobby near the elevator.

The curious stranger next to me got so fed up with the sight that, after a few minutes, she snapped at the rent-a-cop. “Why don’t you search any of the guys when they walk by. All you keep doing is bugging these nice girls,” she hissed.

The man, who at first I thought was a real police officer, appeared even more unprofessional when he opened his mouth.

“I can’t do no body searches. They won’t let me,” he told the woman.

Seeing the disgusted look on her face, and realizing that she obviously had no idea why the man was searching bags, I asked him, “Did you do any of this before September 11?”

“Oh no, I wasn’t here. I didn’t do any of this kinda stuff,” he said, implying he hadn’t been on the job long. He then smiled to the lady, showing his unevenly spaced teeth.

Sure enough, the next woman to walk by had a rather large bag, and by the time our beloved security officer had finished searching her bag, she had carried on a five-minute conversation with an old friend she ran into.

She then picked up her bag and asked the rent-a-cop the question he must hear a couple dozen times per shift. “Can you tell me where the bathroom is?”

At this point, the sassy woman sitting next to me had become pretty perturbed and asked the man, “Why are you doing this anyway?”

To which he replied, “I’m just making sure no one brings no bombs in the building.”

“Don’t you think some man could do that without carrying a bag?” she snapped back while glaring at the security officer who wore an expression of innocence on his face.

“Oh, yeah I don’t doubt dat. But I’m just here trying to do my job. All I’m suppose to do is be checkin’ bags, so that’s what I do,” he replied.

Finally fed up with the whole situation, the lady let out a sigh of disgust and got up to check on her table. I, myself, sat there shaking my head. Not because of the conversation that had just taken place, but because of what had happened while it was taking place.

As our friendly rent-a-cop, in charge of securing one of this nation’s largest and most recognizable buildings, was carrying on his conversation, two women walked by behind him unstopped, carrying large purses.

No, they weren’t on their way up the elevator to plant a bomb in the Hancock Building. Instead they headed into an even more unlikely destination – the bathroom.

That’s when I realized that this country, in no way, can completely guard itself against terrorist acts. In fact, it can’t even come close. All we can do is make people think it is.

And that’s what our strap-on-shoed security guard was doing. He was making folks think they’re safe, otherwise known as his job.