Property Issues

I'm stealing this story from KP, just because it needs to be told and because I can get away with it. He's got better stories than I do, anyway.

Whatever an inmate has in his cell in the way of property is always documented one way or another. Any state issued clothing is listed in his file and they are all pretty much issued the same amount of shoes, pants, socks, t-shirts and etc. If most of the inmates are issued five pairs of pants and one inmate has nine pairs, then you know something is hinky.

Anything he owns himself as personal property is all supposed to be listed on another sheet. Personal clothing, shoes, appliances, jewelry, photo albums, cassette tapes or CD's.... All of that goes on his property sheet.

And it is all supposed to be marked with the offenders name and number. Any appliances they buy, like teevees, radios, CD players, alarm clocks, etc are supposed to be engraved with their name and number before they can take them back to the house.

Of course, being inmates, they have learned ways around the system. I've seen a few cases where someone heated up a sewing needle and etched another name in an item that looked just like somebody did it with the engraver. They got nothing but time and nothing to do with their time but figure out ways to beat the system. It's a sad statement, but it's true.

Inmates are not allowed to buy, sell, lend, borrow or transfer property of any kind at any time. Within humane limits, of course. You can loan a guy a pencil when he doesn't have one. But if you loan him your CD player because his is broken, you both might end up in trouble.

But then again, they find ways around that, too. You only get into trouble if you get caught. And nobody is going to be out there checking every name on every Walkman and comparing them with ID cards out on the yard or even in the house most of the time.

And personal clothing items are a hot commodity out on the yard. All of them want hooded sweat shirts (hoodies), yet they were banned back in '91. Only offenders who have been in prison since before 1991 are allowed to have them because they were already on their property sheet. So if you want one and you just got locked up, be prepared to pay for one. I've heard they are going pretty high since they are wearing out and getting scarce.

If you see an old head with a four digit number wearing a hoodie, then it's probably his. If you see some 19 year old punk with a seven or eight digit number with one, you can be pretty sure it's not on his list. Then it gets confiscated and he gets a violation for contraband and the hoodie goes to the landfill at the end of the month.

Sometimes being in fashion carries a stiff price.

Anyway.... where was I ? Oh yeah... Not being able to type. Argh.

The other night KP was up in the bubble with Walleye and the Menace when he looked up on the top walk of one of the wings and saw an inmate in front of his cell playing an air guitar. Just rocking out and jamming hard.

He brings it to the other guy's attention and they watch him for a minute in amusement. Then KP turns to the Menace (who is a real bug about ferreting out stolen or 'borrowed' property) and says "I wonder if that guitar is on his property list?" The Menace made a move like he was going to dig into the files for the list, but realized what KP had said and covered the move smoothly and replied "I dunno. Maybe you should check?" with that one raised eyebrow of his that said "You almost got me, smarta**."

And since they didn't have a Sergeant in the house, and KP being KP and not wanting a good joke to go to waste, called down to the 10 house Sarge and said "I have a property question."

Sarge said "Okay, shoot."

"If an inmate is in possession of an air guitar, where do they engrave his name and number?"

Luckily Sarge is no dumb bunny and said "Well, I don't know. I'll have to get back to you on that." and hung up.

The question, as of this writing, remains unanswered.

So Tuesday is both the beginning of Mardi Gras and is also Be Nasty Day and Aunts Day. If you have aunts like mine, I wouldn't try combining any of those three.

Most of my aunts would kick your a**.

There's A New CO In The World!

I really hope I don't get whacked upside my head for that picture. But it's cute and a new mom showing off her baby is always something, isn't it?

I had meant to post this the other night but the storm threw the luggage in my head in all directions and I forgot. Do forgive me.

Sometime during the early hours of Friday morning Sgt and Miz Archer gave birth to a baby girl. Well, mostly she did.

I don't know all of the details about exact time and size and weight and all of that stuff that always seems so important. But I was told that her name is Abagail Lane Archer. Her and mommy are doing fine and daddy is expected to recover anytime in the next eighteen years or so.

Knowing those two she probably came out wearing a little camouflage diaper and clutching a tiny compound bow in her little fist. And I have no doubt that instead of that weird baby smell they all seem to have, she will be doused in scent blocker and smell like nothing at all so she doesn't scare off the deer.

Little Miss Abagail Lane is going to have an interesting life. As are her new proud parents. Let's all hope for the best for all of them and when you see Miz or the Sarge tell them congratulations.

And just for my own self preservation I will state right now that I'm pretty sure she looks nothing like the new baby in the picture above.

Is There Any Justice?

I was going to write about the terrific thunderstorm we were presently surviving and how I managed to get through the night and the tarantula downpour and got home and my feet were still dry.

But right in between the words "about" and "the" lightning hit somewhere real close and made all my power flicker. I'm so happy that I invested a couple of years ago and bought those battery backup thingys for the computers and our wireless internet hub.

Anyway, I had the post all written in my head but when I got home, I found this email in my box from a guy who I used to work with in Raccoon City and has since retired.

It reads like this:

IS THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN OR WHAT?

Let's put the seniors in jail and the criminals in nursing homes.

This would correct two things in one motion:

Seniors would have access to showers, hobbies and walks.

They would receive unlimited free prescriptions, dental and medical treatment, wheel chairs, etc.

They would receive money instead of having to pay it out.

They would have constant video monitoring, so they would be helped instantly... if they fell or needed assistance.

Bedding would be washed twice a week and all clothing would be ironed and returned to them.

A guard would check on them every 20 minutes.

All meals and snacks would be brought to them.

They would have family visits in a suite built for that purpose.

They would have access to a library, weight / fitness room, spiritual counseling, a pool and education...and free admission to in-house concerts by nationally recognized entertainment artists. [Johnny Cash entertained often]

Simple clothing - i.e. shoes, slippers, pj's - and legal aid would be free , upon request.

There would be private, secure rooms provided for all with an outdoor exercise yard complete with gardens.

Each senior would have a TV, phone and radio in their room at no cost .

They would receive daily phone calls.

There would be a board of directors to hear any complaints and the ACLU would fight for their rights and protection.

The guards would have a code of conduct to be strictly adhered to, with attorneys available, at no charge to protect the seniors and their families from abuse or neglect.
________________________________________________________

As for the criminals:

They would receive cold food.

They would be left alone and unsupervised.

They would receive showers once a week.

They would live in tiny rooms, for which they would have to pay $5,000 per month.

They would have no hope of ever getting out.

"Sounds like justice to me!"


After reading that there's just not much more I could say. I'm all for it.

So tomorrow is Multiple Personalities Day. I almost wish I was going to be at work for that one. I know a few one man cells that are pretty crowded already.

Sunday is National Frozen Food Day. What could be better? Hey Ma! How about a big bag of Birdseye Frozen Peas?

And Monday will be National Crown Roast Of Pork Day. Hang on. Let me look that one up. Ah. It's one of those odd things where you wrap a rib roast around in a circle so it looks like a little crown. I get it. Does anybody even do that kind of thing anymore?

Copping Out

I'm taking a night, I think. It was a good but busy night at work. I'm tired and need to get up early in the morning, so I'm going to cop out on this one and leave you with the picture above to ponder.

By the by, tomorrow is Holy Experiment Day. I have no idea what that means. I'm thinking more in terms of Burt Ward as Robin saying "Holy Experiment Day, Batman!"

Otherwise we are going to need a whole load of test tubes....

I'm No Babysitter!!!

I gave up tolerating children in my home quite some time ago. I put my foot down and told the wife "No more. Never again."

It was one of the few times that I put my foot down and meant it and got away with it.

My wife is a former CO and she doesn't put up with much BS either. Especially from me.

The inmates have learned that when I'm around and they act like children they are either going to get ignored or thumped.

If you want to be around me and have a pleasant evening, act like an adult or I am going to thump you. It's a simple rule to live by. Everybody should have that posted in their living space somewhere prominent.

Tonight Sgt Puddle was trying to finish up doing the yearly ratings for his minions. Vinnie called out so the only one he had to do tonight was Miz Odd.

If he would have asked me, I would have told him to schedule more time, because it was going to go badly. Sgt Puddle and Miz Odd tend to butt heads quite often. They are both nice people and knowledgeable about the jobs, but hardheaded like nobody's business.

Since Vinnie was out they stuck Miz Pancakes up there and when the rating started going downhill, Sgt Puddle sent Miz Pancakes out of the control center. He said "Go up to the comm room and keep Rev company for awhile. I'm sure he's lonely up there."

Now, don't get me wrong. I like the girl. She seems to show up for work most of the time (I don't keep track) and seems to be able to do most anything you ask of her. She is pleasant and fairly capable. I don't know how she would be if trouble hit but that's just from lack of experience. She doesn't seem afraid of the inmates which is a good thing.

The problem is that she looks like she is about fourteen. Freaking young. I think she's twenty something. She'd have to be at least twenty one to be working here. And she acts real young too, at times. Not immature, just young. Young enough to drive me batty after awhile.

She chattered constantly and played with the teevee set and dug through the fridge and rifled through all the desk drawers and played with the stuff in there and ran around and chattered some more....

I was seriously thinking about breaking out some duct tape.

When I realized I didn't have any duct tape, I just rolled my eyes and tried to be nice. It was hard. I get used to the solitude up in the comm room. Comm room nights are my calm nights.

Maybe I was just having a crabby night. It didn't seem like it at first, but getting my space invaded got under my skin pretty quick.

Next time I'm telling Puddle that if he wants me to babysit, it's going to cost him one medium pepperoni pizza.

Maybe I should bring in some toys; some Lego's and stuff and keep them in one of the drawers. Just in case.

And just in case Miz Pancakes is reading this: You are not really that annoying, dear. I exaggerate just a little. Remember: Feed the Rev and he won't be so grouchy next time.

For tomorrow we have a hat trick. It's I Want You To Be Happy Day, Peach Blossom Day and National Anthem Day .

Hm... Was the National Anthem written on March 3rd? Anybody?

Sweeps Week

It's that all important time of year when we get our annual ratings from our supervisors. This involves multiple copies of several pages and covers all aspects of our professionalism.

In short, they kill thousands of trees to tell us were are not quite as dumb as the trees, but it's too close to call.

Sometimes I'm pretty sure they'd be much better off keeping the trees and printing on us.

Once a year we get rated on five different attributes:
1. Knowledge of work.
2. Quality of work.
3. Situational responsiveness
4. Initiative, and
5. Dependability

Your rating can go from Poor to Needs Improvement to Satisfactory to Highly Satisfactory to Outstanding.

As long as you get at least a Satisfactory on your rating they leave you alone. Anything below that for more than one rating period and they can start paperwork to get you fired.

But sometimes that is difficult to back up if it comes right down to it. There are Sergeants rating people who they have hardly ever met, let alone worked with. I suspect that's a little difficult to do.

My first rating when I was at the other camp up the road, was done by a Sergeant who worked on the other side of the camp and who had never seen me before in her life. She just walked in one day and had to ask somebody who I was, then said "Here's your yearly performance rating. I don't know you but I haven't heard any complaints, so you get a rating of Satisfactory."

Okey dokey. After she left I said "What the hell was that all about?" They were all about as new as me and nobody was quite sure. I just said "Okay. Whatever." and went on with my work.

Since I got to Raccoon City I have always known who my rating Sergeant was. For most of my career to this point, it was whoever was the Hive Sergeant at the time. I think I went through about eleven of those in six years. Well, ten. We ended up getting the same one twice.

Now, since I'm considered "utility" I got shifted to Sergeant Archer. I figured that was a good deal on my part. Archer and I spent many nights hip deep in the snit down in the Hive together back when he was a lowly peon like me.

And his lovely little wifey likes me. That always helps.

This year, for the second year in a row, I pulled off an Outstanding.

Those used to be pretty much impossible to get. You'd have to pay somebody or save the Wardens grand daughters life or something to get one of those. And apparently the line following her around waiting for the chance was pretty long.

But they've lowered the bar some and allowed supervisors to hand them out if they think it's suitable. So now if you show up 99% of the time and don't run with scissors too much, you can score an Outstanding.

Good thing I leave my scissors home most days, huh?

It is nice when a supervisor gives you props for doing something right, though. If the rating system went both ways, I'd give him an Outstanding right back again.

Gee, tomorrow is Old Stuff Day. We could hold the parade for that in my living room. Or would it be considered Old Yard Sale Junk Day? I get those confused. When does Stuff become Junk and when is Junk considered Stuff?

And where is George Carlin when we need him?

Mentoring

We have a program here set up so that officers who have been here awhile are supposedly given skills to help them train the newer officers. Those who have been so trained are called "Field Training Officers" or FTO's for short.

There is supposed to be lots of FTO's in every position so the new people can get proper training wherever they go. It's a nice idea.

But since the budget went to heck in a handbasket and they cut all of those extra positions, there are times when you can't find an FTO anywhere on camp, let alone in the position the new person needs training on.

It's still better than the old system where everybody made out like whatever they did was some big lodge secret you had to earn.

"When you've been here as long as I have, you'll know how to do this."

Well, thanks alot Pops. But I don't plan on being the worlds oldest CO like you. I just want to get through this without getting killed and go home at the end of the day, if you don't mind.

Sorry. Sore spot. Anyway...

I came in today and they still had me slated to be an extra on B-yard. I didn't figure that would last long. Extra officers always ended up getting moved somewhere.

Lt Baby Boy told me I was still on the yard but I had to do the mail run first and I had to take one of the new guys with me and show him how it was done.

Okay, I could do that.

I told the new guy that the first thing you do is steal a cart somewhere. If you can't find one that isn't nailed down, you stamp your little feet until they find you one to use.

Once you find a cart then you come out to the Admin building and you hide and slack off for about thirty minutes because the mail won't be sorted and ready til at least 3:30.

He liked that part. I didn't mind it so much myself. By the time I got out to the yard most of the start of shift work would be done and I wouldn't have to mess with it. Sweet!

I went through the whole process step by step from where to find the mail and what order to stack it in the cart to delivering it and where to hide the cart when you're done.

So we drove all over the camp and chatted briefly with almost everybody we saw at each house, just tooling around on the cart and delivering the mail.

Every now and then he'd look at me like "You mean we really get paid to do this?"

An easy easy way to start off the shift, lemme tell you.

And my luck stayed with me all evening long. Not only did I get to stay on the yard all night, I didn't even have to do the Del Norte or count anywhere! Easy peezy.

I actually think the new guy learned a few things as well. Just an added bonus. And me without any formal training, either.

Oh Bummer! I was looking at the list and, if this were a leap year, tomorrow would be National Surf And Turf Day. Pfui. I was looking forward to that one.

But instead (this being a normal boring year) tomorrow is both National Pig Day and Peanut Butter Lover's Day.

Hmmm... why not combine the two? "Hey, you got your bacon in my peanut butter!"

Okay. Never mind. That sounds dirty.