A Pretty Good Day

It was a pretty good day down in the Hive.

Even the knuckleheads couldn't get me down. They'd yell obscenities at me and I would zing them back with "Yo Mama" cracks so fast it would leave them speechless.

Unprofessional, I know. But I didn't care.

It was my second to the last down down in the Hive and I was determined to have a good day. And I did.

Nothing big or crazy happened.

We didn't have to run our legs off.

Everything anybody said tonight was funny. And Drew making the frog face while he was telling us a joke left us in stitches.

And of course Chucky entertained us with his musical farts all night long.

Those are always a big hit with us.

Nothing much to write about other than pretty much nothing happened.

If tomorrow is half as good it will be a great way to wrap it up.

Security Issues

A couple of months ago some dimwit knucklehead in the Hive threatened to shank someone with a chicken bone.

Thereafter it was decreed that when they serve chicken quarters out on the hill, the Hive would get those small hockey puck-like chicken patties instead so there would not be the bone problem.

OK, I can live with that. They did it to themselves.

Today my lead food service worker came in and announced "We were supposed to have tater tots with the fish today. But someone said we are only getting sliced or mashed potatoes down here from now on. They say it's a security issue."

WTS? How can tater tots be a security issue?

He replied "They can clog up their toilets with the tater tots so they won't send them down here anymore."

How in the......

What the......

Whose brilliant......

Awwww...... snap.

Next thing you know they will be pre-cutting their food into bite sized chunks. Heck, you could dry out one of those chicken patties for a couple of days, sharpen the edge on the concrete and cut somebody's throat with it!

Next thing you know someone will get stabbed with a flour tortilla and everything will go to hell.

And of course, they recognize neither sarcasm nor irony.

Security issues....... pfui!

Anticipation

"Be prepared". They taught me that in Boy Scouts.

It's about all I remember from that time. Other than all of that "trustworthy loyal helpful friendly courteous kind cheerful thrifty brave clean and reverent" stuff. I blame my Dad for sticking that one in my head.

And I always try to be prepared.

I'm not always successful, but I do try. Usually I end up being prepared for the worst and get myself all psyched up for nothing.

Like today for example.

We have this wobblehead up in C-wing who came down a few weeks ago for pc. Apparently he was scared of someone down in the wobblehead house. Either that or he owed somebody a bunch of money and didn't want to pay.

Last week he decided he was being wronged by us somehow and decided to go on hunger strike. I guess he thought he could force us to do something or another by starving himself.

Personally, I could give a bent rat if he eats or not. If he misses enough meals they will stick a tube down his throat and feed him that way. As long as I don't have to do it myself, it's all good.

This afternoon everybody in C-wing started shouting that the dude was having a seizure. How they knew he was having one is a mystery. I guess he's one of those medical anomalies that can still talk while having a seizure.

Those are amazing. I'm stunned every time I see it happen.

I was out on the rec yard when they called the code 16 for "apparent seizures". His cell window was right above where I was sitting and it sounded like they were having some trouble. I heard voices raised, but Sgt Banty and Lt Waggy were up there so I didn't figure they needed me. But I waited for the radio call, just in case.

It seems this idiot is diabetic and the hunger strike isn't doing him any good at all. And since he was being such a knucklehead when they were trying to help him, the Lt and Captain Spit decided that when he returned from medical he would be put on suicide watch.

It was justifiable. Everything he was doing came under the heading of "deliberate self harm".

Except he was going up to medical on day shift and coming back down on ours.

Nice. They do that to us now and then. The evil swine.

And since Sgt Miz P's spot is still vacant and the new relief Sgt doesn't start until next week, they sent us Sgt Kenny.

He's a nice enough guy. As long as you don't really expect anything from him. He tries, but he has no real idea what we are doing and is content with that. He just wants to do his eight hours and go home with no problems.

And when he's in our house on the infrequent occasion, he looks to the senior officers to make the decisions.

I knew this knucklehead wasn't going to be happy about being put on suicide watch. I figured there was going to be a fight. So I called Capt Walrus and gave him the low down. Then I made sure my crew knew what was up. The Cap said he'd talk to Lt Maybelline and let her know.

So the whole evening we are waiting for this dude to come back down and give us a tussle. I asked to be warned when he was coming so we could make sure all hands were available. Just to be on the safe side.

They didn't warn us.

About 8:15 here comes Lt Maybelline with two yard dogs walking this knucklehead back down to the house. So we all scramble to get ready.

They must have given him a sedative or something up there. He was a little wobbly and gave them no trouble at all when they stripped him out and left him on the cell with nothing but a smock.

And back out on the rec yard all of that pent up energy went leaking slowly out of my ears.

I'm glad nothing happened. But still......

Wet And Nasty

Gee that was such a fun day. I can't wait to do it again.

I spent 90% of my day soaking wet with sweat. And the last 10% soaking wet with rain.

Of the two, the rain was much nicer.

Once again, I suspect the rain gawds hate me. The rec yard is like Death Valley in the afternoons.
The sun shines off of the concrete and there is no shade to be had at all until late in the evening right before the sun goes down.

Several times today great big storms rolled up on the horizon and right before they would provide us any shade...... they would split right down the middle and pass off to either side. Once again leaving the rec yard in the blazing sun.

The evil swine.

This evening we got to watch two storms pass us by. One to the east and one to the west. Pretty spectacular. Lots of lightning. The wind was sucking up all of the dirt off of the yard on B side and blowing it over to our side.

That was a bit alarming.

And of course, it finally did rain on us. Just enough to get us all wet again fifteen minutes before it was time to go home.

Don't that just figure?

At least it cooled it off a little so the drive home was fairly nice. By the time I got home I was almost dry again. Then of course I had to take another shower.

I'm going to spend the summer all wrinkly, I can tell.

The Book Or The Movie?

Here I'll diverge from my daily fair of writing about the prison to something a little more personal.

I do that on occasion. Don't be frightened.

Those of you who know me personally know about my personal penchant for mysteries. Of course, those of you who know me strictly through my blog have seen my Raymond Chandler moments. But those fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on your view) to spend any time with me in person have listened to me blather nonstop about Rex Stouts "Nero Wolfe" mysteries. I love reading the books and when A&E made 20 episodes into a television series, I devoured it like pancakes. As soon as it was available on DVD I bought my very own set.

In my opinion they couldn't have done a better job of casting the roles with Maury Chaykin as Nero Wolfe and Timothy Hutton as Archie Goodwin and a rotating cast of regulars including (just to name a few) Saul Rubinek, Bill Smitrovich, George Plimpton, James Tolkan and the inestimable Kari Matchett.

Look them up. Good people.

At any rate, a month or so ago I decided to re-read all of my Nero Wolfe books. At the present moment I have 28 of them, so it's taking me awhile, as I don't get a whole lot of time to read these days.

The problem that I am having is that the best stories are the ones that were made into teevee shows and when I am in the midst of one of those, I want to put the book aside to watch the show. Then, of course, the book is no longer as interesting, because I now remember how it ends. So I move on to the next one.

At the present moment I am reading "Prisoners Base" and the DVD's are sitting in a box at my elbow even now.

The temptation to put in the disk and watch it is severe, but I am persevering with the printed page.

For the moment, the battle continues.

Big And Scary ...... errr.... Scared

When I got in today there were two inmates on the restraint benches in A and B wings. The first one had been in his cell for about five minutes when he declared that he was in fear for his life from his cellie. So they pulled him out and put him on the bench until they could find him another spot.

The second one came in as a lockup and declared to Miz E (our former gang task force officer now working the Hive) "I'm a crip so I can't cell with anybody else."

Say what?

You think you the only crip on this camp, homie?

Well, I got bad news sunshine. Our state has declared that there are no gangs in our prison system. Therefore, you cannot be a crip.

Or instead of trying to use that lame excuse, why don't you just be honest with yourself and everybody else and say "I'm a chickensh*t and I'm afraid of other inmates."?

Policy says that we can only leave someone on the bench for two hours before we have to notify the shift commander and medical.

So after one hour and fifty nine minutes they put him in an empty cell so he didn't have to be afraid anymore.

And tomorrow when they try to put someone else in there and he refuses then he goes right back on the bench again.

If I was a crip I'd be ashamed of that dude.

An Endless Line Of Knuckleheads

Quick pre-note: I'm not trying in any way to imply that Tibetan monks are knuckleheads. It was just the best pic of an endless line I could find. No offense intended.

When I first walked in and saw Whompy walking out with the metal detector over his shoulder I should have known it was going to be one of those days. They only really break those things out when they expect to find something buried out on the yard.

Somebody said he was out hunting shanks. Somebody asked him how many he found and he held up five fingers.

Snap! If they found five, I wonder how many they didn't find? That's just one of those questions better left unasked. Not if you want to keep your paranoia reigned in, anyway.

Get down to the Hive and everybody there is soaking wet with sweat and about run into the ground. I don't know how many releases they did, but they had gotten thirteen lockups... just one right after another. And they got two more before shift change.

The Bear said at one point the property bags were piled about waist high in the office while everyone was concerned with just getting the offenders in their cells. The whole day was just an endless line of idiots getting locked up. (Hence the picture)

We got word of one more coming down from the treatment house right before count time. We assigned him a bed for when he arrived and it left us with one open bed in the entire house.

We finally caught a break about dinner time and things slowed down. After chow Chucky and I took out a round of rec and as we were bringing them back in we hear this garbled radio transmission. Someone sounding overly excited. All we hear was "garble garble nine! By the handball court!"

Oh snap. I knew what it was, even if I didn't catch all of it. Somebody was fighting.

Well, it takes two to fight and we only had one empty bed. Doesn't take a math genius to figure we were going to have to kick somebody out. Found the first name on the list and told him to pack up because he was leaving. Every dark cloud, right?

Mere moments later here comes the first fighter. Even before we knew his name. Even before we got the bed emptied out to put him in. So we had to put him on the restraint bench while we got the other dude out and chased him out of the house.

Luckily for us (but not the inmate) the second guy got pretty hurt and had to go to the hospital. They thought he might have broken his leg in the fight. At least it gave us a little breathing time before he showed up at our door.

This kind of crap always happens when it's miserable hot outside. I guess tempers just get short in the heat. Mine gets pretty short too, when I'm walking around getting screamed at with sweat running in my eyes in a constant stream.

If they knew how testy the heat made us down there they might think twice about doing something stupid enough to get locked up for.

But then, thinking twice isn't their strongest skill set.

Keeps us in business.

Somebody Else Got Hurt

They were locking up some knucklehead from up the hill from us yesterday and he got stupid. All he was going down for in the beginning was getting loud and belligerent in the sally port.

At first, anyway.

They put cuffs on him and he stayed loud and belligerent. CC and Spanky and somebody else were escorting him and it looked at first like he was just going to be loud, which we can live with. Loud and mouthy is just small stupid.

Then he got big stupid.

Right before they got to the gate he tried to pull away. They called a 10-5 and knucklehead got a close up and personal interview with COI Concrete. It apparently didn't do his face any real good.

So they got him back up and pretty much under control physically. But since he was still being loud and stupid (sometimes they just don't learn, do they?) they decided to skip going through medical and take him straight to the Hive.

About ten feet from the Hive gate he got big stupid again and tried to turn and spit in CC's face. That got him another visit from COI Concrete with an assist from Sgt pepper Spray all over his already banged up face. I'll bet that stung.

And this time while he was on the ground he started kicking and managed to kick Spanky in the side of the head before they managed to slap some leg irons on him.

So knucklehead went on down to the Hive and Spanky went to the hospital.

Instead of just going down for creating a disturbance and maybe getting ten to twenty days, he is now up for assault on an officer and might realize another eight to ten years on his sentence for his little investment.

And he is sitting in a cell by himself in a house full of officers who think the world Spanky and think this snaphead has absolutely nothing at all coming.

What a fool.

Ol' Spanky came back later to get his violation read. He seemed okay, other than being stiff and sore as hell. They didn't seem to think there was any permanent injuries, thank Gawds. Hopefully he will be back to work pretty soon. I don't think they'd survive long out there on the yard without him.

It brought the lesson to the front of all of our minds again.

This is a dangerous place. And we need to watch each others backs all of the time.

Let's be more careful out there.

Trepidation

Trepidation. No, it's not a disease. Websters describes it as a state of alarm, fear or worry. A lingering sense of dread.

I was so worried that I wouldn't get one of those jobs I bid on and all the while secretly wishing I wouldn't. On the way into work this afternoon I had to talk myself out of going to the Major and rescinding my bid so I could stay where I was.

Why on earth would I do such a crazy thing? Why would i purposefully keep myself down in the Hive where it's loud and stinky and stressful all of the time?

Because it's my box. My comfort zone. My house. I know what needs to be done and I know how it works and i usually don't have to wait for instructions. I can just go and do my thing.

Plus, I'm somebody there. I'm the answer guy when things go south. I guess it's my ego straining at the leash.

But I didn't go talk to the Major and I got the Saturday/Sunday job. So I'll be home weekends now. And since my new job starts on Sunday, July 4th, it turns out that I get a three day weekend out of the deal. The first time I've had the 4th off in a few years. Pretty sweet, I guess.

So I get to work one day in the Comm Room passing out keys and radios, one day on B-yard and three days wherever they need me.

I guess I can live with that.

I was still a little worried about going out to places where I don't have the answers and don't always know what to do, but Sgt Miz P and Chucky and even BG were very supportive and told me how much better I would feel once I got out of the place. As BG said "They won't expect you to know anything or do anything and if you do know something, they'll think it's a miracle!"

I guess he's right.

So I'm happy and sad.

Two more weeks down in the Hive. Then we'll see what comes next.

I'll be in touch. You can count on that.

Actually, I'm Nervous

Hopefully tomorrow the new orders for the job bids come out.

Provided, of course, the Major comes in to work.

And provided he feels like messing with making up the orders and assigning the jobs.

I'm kind of nervous about it.

I haven't worked anywhere but the Hive for the last six years. I don't really know how to do anything else. And I haven't set foot on B-side in well over a year.

I hope it's still the same as it was the last time I was over there.

But I don't remember any of the procedures for working the sally ports or driving the P-car or working in medical or laundry. I don't remember which keys I need for which post and what they go to.

And what if I don't get either one of those bids? Then what will I do?

Wait another two weeks and try again, I guess.

Pfui. This is worse than waiting for Christmas. It's like knowing I have a dentist appointment on Christmas.

**Sigh**

Burnt In More Ways Than One

There's just no doubt that I am burned out on working the Hive. Even though it is crazy busy and the nights tend to fly by and I have most of a good crew to work with (except for that one who is always larking about somewhere else taking it easy) I have had enough of the place for awhile.

I have fought and argued with myself again and again for the last few years, telling myself I should leave and then talking myself out of it. Even though it is a crazy stressful awful stinky noisy disgusting place to work, it's my comfort zone. My base, my digs, my turf, my crib.

Etc... Etc....

But now that I have made the decision to leave I am getting anxious to get on with it. I'm ready to go.

Especially now that summer and the hot weather is starting to hit hard. Man, I just don't do well in hot weather anymore. Ever since 1985 when I spent three months down in Central America where we had days when it was over 140 degrees (that was as high as our thermometer went) and I ended up with a mild case of heat stroke. I just can't take the heat like I used to.

This afternoon out on the rec yard it was like being in a giant Easy-Bake oven. And I screwed up and left my hat at home so I had nothing to shade my eyes. Or anything else, as it turns out.

When we finally got back inside I was totally drenched in sweat and radiating heat like an old fashioned percolator. I ran water on my face and arms to try and cool off some. When I wiped the sweat off of my head I felt something stinging my scalp. I went into the bathroom to take a closer look in the mirror and muttered to myself:

"Awww, man! I done gone and burnt my haid!!"

That's what I get for not wearing a hat.

Is there a milliner in the house?

I'm Not A Good Teacher

We have, on our camp, certain officer who have volunteered to receive extra training and have become Field Training Officers, or FTO's for short.

My mind is so disorganized that I know I would make a lousy teacher, so I never volunteered. Anything anyone has learned from me just fell out of my head by accident.

Last year while I was in my yearly recert training, the head training guy came up to me and said "People tell me that you are the go-to guy down in the Hive." I shrugged. It's true on our shift just because I have been down there so long I know how to do almost everything. He went on to say "We don't have any FTO's down there on your shift. We really need someone who can train the new people down there. Will you sign up for the class?" I shrugged again then said I'd do it.

I don't know why. Maybe I figured once in awhile I would actually teach somebody something useful by accident and it would keep them from getting hurt. Maybe I was just stroking my own ego.

So I waited for them to get me in the class.

And I waited.....

And I waited......

And I waited some more.

And they never sent me.

I'm pretty certain that now that I have actually made the decision to go somewhere else that I will get a notice saying they are sending me to FTO training. It's an almost dead certainty.

Tonight Chucky and I were stuck with a whole house full of utilities (except for Windows, doing his night in the bubble) and two OJT's. Sergeant Bees sent the OJT's with Chucky and me out to do rec, since they needed experience with the cuffs.

One thing you do alot of on rec is cuffing and uncuffing so we let them do most of it.

Dang, that sucked. They were so slow at it they put us way behind on getting rec out and we ended up only doing two rounds. It's not their fault. They haven't done it eight hours a day forever like we have. But it was still extremely hard to just stand there and watch them. Chucky and I were both dancing around, trying to remain calm and just give advice and not take them out of their hands and say "Here! Let me do it!" They needed the experience.

We both tried giving them advice and imparting our own pearls of wisdom about the best way to do the job and how to stay safe.

For the most part, they just stared at me like I was speaking Chinese.

I hope they did learn something.

Even if it was by accident.

I Am Not Playing Your Game!!!

Some of these idiots must think that I hatch out of a new egg every day and I won't remember the stupid little games they play.

This knucklehead today just got completely off suicide watch and was demanding to be moved. I told him we weren't moving him unless we needed that cell so he started screaming for the Sarge. I told him the sarge was busy and we still weren't moving him.

So he started kicking his door.

Then i told him I would bring the Sarge when he got a violation for being an idiot.

So he started wanting to talk to me. Wanting to talk me out of writing him up.

I just leaned down by his door and said "I'm not playing your little game. I'm through with you. You have nothing coming from me except a violation." And I refused to speak to him the rest of the evening.

I didn't even see him again until the end of shift when we went in to read the violation. As usual, he tried to blame it all on me. Luckily Sarge wasn't listening either. And the little dimwit went ahead and plead guilty to the violation. That works.

So I guess I have a new strategy for dealing with him. Cut him off before he gets his full wind up and then refuse to discuss it. Cuts him right off at the knees.

Whatever works, I guess.

An Unexpected Holiday

Recently I had lost a filling out of one of my upper teeth and it has been bothering me ever since. It's kept me up a few nights, as I tend to grind my teeth in my sleep. Not a sound thing to do with a sensitive tooth.

At any rate, I stopped by my dentists office this morning on my way back from physical therapy to see when i could get an appointment.

To my immense surprise, the receptionist told me to wait a moment and they would see if they could get me in. I was even further surprised a few minutes later when the dentist told me that that tooth and the one next to it needed to go.

So not thirty minutes after I entered, I exited, minus two teeth and toting a prescription for some pain killers.

Needless to say, I didn't go in to work today. Instead, i have sat here and there in a drug induced haze nursing a dull aching pain in my jaw. Not that I blame the dentist, mind you. He's an excellent dentist and if you ask me I will give you his name and a good recommendation. You just can't pull two teeth and not expect some discomfort afterwards.

But enough of that.

Instead of my daily grouse about working in a prison I give you a link I found this morning and find quite fascinating. I give you:

The Cardboard Tube Fighting League on Wikipedia
and their main website here:

http://www.tubeduel.com/


Enjoy.

Crabby

I had something to say and after I had written it all out, I realized that I was way too crabby to be posting things.

So I deleted it.

I had a hot and busy and crappy night. It was hot and busy and crappy when I got there and stayed hot and busy and crappy all night long.

So I'm going to go to bed instead.

I'll try to be in a better mood tomorrow.

It's My "Oh I'm Scared" Face

We got one of our frequent flyer wobbleheads back the other day. The one that threatened to kick down all the fences while he was out dancing like Michael Jackson.

Yeah, that idiot.

No sooner was he locked back up in the Hive when he started passing threatening letters out the door.

At least, we suppose they are threatening. But most of them are so incomprehensible that nobody is exactly sure what it is he wants.

One of them is addressed to "Mr dongles" or possibly "Mr dongle5". We aren't sure who that one is supposed to go to. As far as we can tell, there is nobody named either dongles or dongle5 on this camp anywhere.

But one of his first notes was the most priceless. I'll repeat it here as verbatim as I can get so I can include the odd spelling and lack of punctuation.

It reads:

"To all Hive sargants and CO you all have 2400 hours to get me out of the Hive or I will have you strip of your ranks and jobs and have me in the hospital this 2400 hours start in 100 hours this is not a thret this is a promes I have the FBI, CIA and the TATF backing me up and let mental health know that I am not playing.
Sine
Capton Egelson"

So do the math. We had 2400 hours, which is of course 100 days. And add the extra 100 hours gives us an extra four days leeway. They were only planning on keeping him for ten days initially, but if we got all this extra time, why not use it?

I called the local FBI office and they claim that they have never heard of Capton Egelson. The CIA, of course, will neither confirm nor deny and I am unable to find a number for the TATF. My phone book must be out of date.

I discussed the note with mental health and they still think he's playing, despite the ominous tone of his message.

So what am I to do? I can't let him out and I don't want to lose my rank (since I really have none to start with) and I can't find Mr dongles anywhere!

I don't look too frightened, do I?

Water Water Everywhere.....

And not a drop to drink.

That was how our evening ended up, anyway.

I'm not sure which genius decided that a hot muggy day was the best time to cut off all of the water to the camp to repair the water lines. It certainly wasn't very well thought out. Or if it was, I don't see the reasoning.

But about 8:30 this evening they cut off all of the water and started opening up fire hydrants to blow the pressure in the lines down. So there was no water in the sinks or toilets for over 2,000 inmates and 100 staff members and there were huge muddy puddles downstream of all the hydrants.

And the memo stated that it could be off until 8:00 tomorrow morning.

Of course, nobody made any sort of provisions for drinking water or sanitary facilities.

About the time Chucky and I were leaving the knuckleheads in the Hive were all waking up to the fact that they didn't have any water and they were starting to get pissed off about it. And the guys who were expecting to get showers on midnight shift were really starting to whine.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the whole place is going to smell pretty bad come 8:00 in the morning.

Sgt Big J said "Well, midnights won't have anything to do since there won't be any showers!" I replied "I suspect that they are going to spend all night writing conduct violations."

From the way it was beginning to sound when I left, that wouldn't surprise me one little bit.

Hoo boy. I'm sure glad I get to leave early.

Hearing Voices

BG and I have our spots out on the rec yard where we like to sit. I sit to the right of the door, leaning up against the fence and he sits to the left against the wall. That way I'm facing away from the sun and he can lean back into the shade of the building, if there is any.

Unfortunately, That puts my chair right in front of the window for C-7. Not close enough to get spit on or anything (but it has been tried) but close enough that they can see me clearly and hold a conversation.

There have been some really strange conversations take place out of that window.

Take the other day for instance. One of our frequent fliers from the wobblehead house was in there on suicide watch. As a matter of fact, he's the one I keep getting subpoenas for that they keep canceling the court date. Yeah, that guy.

At any rate, he was complaining that he never did or said anything, they just put him on suicide watch for no reason! I looked in his file and while they were locking him up he stated "I'm going to either hurt myself or make you beat my a*s every single day." Go figure. Sounded just like something he'd say.

I could tell he was off his meds again. Every time he gets off them he starts talking about other people hurting him. That was the one thing he always fixated on when he started paddling around in the shallow end of his brain. Other people were hurting him and he always ended up lashing out at someone over it. That's usually why he ended up in the Hive.

He said: "They kept hitting me with their keys, man. Taking my flesh off right to the bone. I don't know why those C.O.'s kept walking by and hitting me. They just kept doing that and I couldn't take it no more. Mother fu*kers kept shooting me with tracers and putting things in me and sucking out all my blood."

Hmm... yup. He's off his meds again!

And all we can do is keep urging him to take them and hope he will land back on this planet again in a day or two.

I'm trying really hard not to get into a tussle with anyone until my arm heals back up again. And I sure as hell don't want to get involved in another court case with him.

After awhile, I just moved my chair so he couldn't see me anymore. Couldn't take too much of that rambling, if you know what I mean.

Some days I almost wonder what it's like to talk to normal people.

My New Theme Song (NSFW)

Just had to throw this up here real quick for your consideration. Ran across this song entirely by accident while prowling for other things.

It's called "Wicked Way"by a young man named Benjamin Taylor. I'd never heard of him before, but I think I'll be listening to everything he's done.

This has to be the most honest song I have ever heard in my life. Enjoy!

Wicked Way

I Won The Toss (I Think)

Well, I would have written about this last night, but Blogger was down for the count. That made me cranky like nobodys business, let me tell you.

By Gawd when I get something for free, I expect it to WORK!!!

I'm like that.

Anyway, after mulling it over in my mind and fighting myself about it all weekend, I decided. And Sunday when I went in, I dropped a bid on a utility job. The one with Fridays and Saturdays off like I have now.

I think it's time. If you have any objections, talk to KP. It's all his fault.

I must have talked myself out of doing it a dozen times over the weekend and came up with all kinds of excuses why I didn't want to leave the Hive. Even when I had the bid sheet half filled out I was trying to delay it. But I was stern with myself and dropped it in the box.

Often I am my own worst enemy. But hey, at least it's someone I know.

It will be a minimum of two weeks before I find out if I got it or not and another two weeks after that before I actually go anywhere else. So another month in the Hive. And then they have to put my spot up for bid and go through the whole process again to get someone back in there and guess who they tend to send in to fill empty slots?

The guy that just vacated it, of course. Who knows better how to work that post?

Ay-yi-yi!

Maybe in two months or so I can get into this utility thing and relax a little. Go places where they don't expect me to know anything once in awhile. Kick back and let someone else make the decisions. Get out from under the microscope.

Of course I don't really know how to do anything other than work the Hive. It will be like coming out of the academy all over again. I'll have to learn new things and work with new people.

Besides, it will be sort of fun to watch and see who ends up with my job. I hope it's someone with their head on their shoulders and not up their hind end. BG has a low tolerance for stupidity.

In the meantime, I do feel better having made the decision. At least that part of it is off of my mind. The rest is in the Majors hands.

It's All About The Choices You Make

I've always tried to urge the offenders to realize that they are making the choices that put them in the predicaments they are in. Especially in the Hive. Almost exclusively they put themselves in there for doing something stupid or getting involved in something stupid.

I don't know why I even bother.

They either ignore me or they are too stupid or immature to get it.

I just keep hoping a little light bulb will come on inside one of those tiny brains and I won't ever have to deal with them again.

Then I would get some brand new twit to take his place, I'm sure. We are never short of customers.

I've been thinking alot about my own choices the last couple of days.

KP and his big easy grin woke me up a little to a few of the people who work here that aren't stressed out all of the time. That was on my mind all last night.

And when I came in today there are new job bids up on the board and I believe I saw a utility bid with my same Fridays and Saturdays off.

I'm seriously thinking about it. I'll mull it around this weekend and decide when I come back.

I will let you know, of course.

In the meantime, here's an interesting little conversation I had with an offender tonight. This guy came down to the Hive on Close Observation status and he's been on the same status for a couple of weeks now. All he has in the cell is a foam mattress, a blanket and one set of clothes. That's what they get. The guy has been no trouble on our shift or any other that I know of. I've hardly ever heard him even speak. He's just there in a camera cell, sleeping for the most part.

I open the chuck hole to give him his cheese sandwiches and cookies for dinner and he says to me:

"CO, I want to check in."

Perplexed, I glance into the cell to make sure there's nobody in there except him. And I ask "Check in? From who?"

He says "The people."

"What people?"

"The population. I want to check in from population. I want to stay here."

A little light (see above) comes on in my head.

"Oh, I get you. Well to do it right you have to write a note. And to get pen and paper you have to get off Close Obs."

He starts to look a little stricken. "I can't check in then?" I thought he might cry.

So I said "Just wait til the psych comes to see you again. Make sure you tell them. They'll take care of it."

He smiled a big smile and said "Okay, CO! Thanks!" And went off to eat his sandwich.

That one almost had me. I half expected to see someone else in there with him.

Egad. I think I do need a break.

He Tempted Me

Ran into KP again this evening. He was doing the mail run.

It isn't hard. You load all the mail bags onto a golf cart and drive around the camp. When you get to each house, you call on the radio and they come out and get their mail.

Easiest job on the camp.

He tools up to the Hive on his little golf cart and says "You ought to try this utility stuff! All you have to do is drive around and look cool! Nobody expects you to know or do anything. It's a piece of cake!"

The last thing he said to me before he drove off was "You ought to try this for awhile! It will do you alot of good!"

I think it was the wide relaxed smile that got to me.

All night long while I was dealing with infantile knuckleheads listening to them scream and kick on their doors and curse me and demand this and that, his smile stayed in the back of my mind.

All of the times I have threatened to leave the Hive and run off to a safe quiet house somewhere else are catching up to me again and I am left in a dilemma.

Could I take safe and quiet? Would the boredom make me cranky and crazy? Or would I just get fat and lazy and slip into a comfort coma?

I couldn't handle that.

But he surely did tempt me. The ba*tard.

Got A Few Laughs Anyway

The day wasn't too bad, as far as days went. Managed to get a few laughs in on the way.

Ran into KP on my way in. It was the first time I'd seen him since he got pulled. And the very first thing out of his mouth is "Has anybody sung to you and told you they loved you today?" I rolled my eyes and said "No, and don't you start!"

At least he hasn't lost his sense of humor. We hung out and traded bad jokes before Chuck and I headed down to the Hive.

The mess from last night was getting finally cleared up as we got down there. There were more check-in games after BG and I left. The one lockup that came down just as we took off refused to go into a cell with anybody else then said he was going to hurt himself in order to get a single cell. That caused all kind of mess and then midnight shift came in and moved a bunch around and apparently screwed up doing the room moves in the computer.

Luckily for everyone involved, count cleared. But I'm not sure how.

Oh lawd. I'm sleepy. These last couple of days have been rough. There were more things that happened, but I'm going to save them for another time.

This big nasty Hive monster is going to bed. It's been a harsh week and it's only half over.

Siggggghhhhhh....................