Last week I had the strangest feeling that something unusual was about to happen, and it did...
At approximately nine o'clock Friday morning, as I was performing my usual janitorial tasks, the telephone at the officer's desk in my housing unit rang. The officer then called to me that I was
to report to correction officer "S" in the kitchen. That she wanted me there at 9:30.
So, shortly afterwards, as per the officer's instructions, I headed across prison grounds where I made my way to the kitchen, an area that is normally off limits to any inmate who doesn't work there.
Upon my arrival at the first of two large electronically controlled sliding steel doors, stood Miss S, a pleasant officer whom I have known for many years. With a slight smirk on her face, Miss S told me that starting Monday morning, April 2nd, which is now today, I was to start working in the kitchen. This was a surprise as her announcement was not according to normal protocol. Usually an inmate
would first be summoned before a handful of the facility's staff in what is known as the program committee. Here the decision is made amongst the Committee's members as to where one's job placement will be.
Bluntly, Miss S told me that I did not have a choice. She had already taken it upon herself to contact the program Committee and they okayed her request without me having to first report to them. Officer S said the kitchen needed a competent "pot washer," and I was the man f or the job.
Therefore, first thing this morning I went to the clothing supply area known as the "State Shop," where I was promptly issued my white kitchen uniform. Then, dressed and looking like a sailor in the Navy, I reported to the kitchen for duty, with heavy slip-resistant black work-boots on my feet, and ready for action.
Previously, from July 2008 until well into 2009, I had worked in the kitchen doing the same task. But while in the kitchen I left behind a good work record. And now Miss S had volunteered me to go back. For how long, I don't know. But I'm here!
D. B.
Note: Officer "S" is a pseudonym.
to report to correction officer "S" in the kitchen. That she wanted me there at 9:30.
So, shortly afterwards, as per the officer's instructions, I headed across prison grounds where I made my way to the kitchen, an area that is normally off limits to any inmate who doesn't work there.
Upon my arrival at the first of two large electronically controlled sliding steel doors, stood Miss S, a pleasant officer whom I have known for many years. With a slight smirk on her face, Miss S told me that starting Monday morning, April 2nd, which is now today, I was to start working in the kitchen. This was a surprise as her announcement was not according to normal protocol. Usually an inmate
would first be summoned before a handful of the facility's staff in what is known as the program committee. Here the decision is made amongst the Committee's members as to where one's job placement will be.
Bluntly, Miss S told me that I did not have a choice. She had already taken it upon herself to contact the program Committee and they okayed her request without me having to first report to them. Officer S said the kitchen needed a competent "pot washer," and I was the man f or the job.
Therefore, first thing this morning I went to the clothing supply area known as the "State Shop," where I was promptly issued my white kitchen uniform. Then, dressed and looking like a sailor in the Navy, I reported to the kitchen for duty, with heavy slip-resistant black work-boots on my feet, and ready for action.
Previously, from July 2008 until well into 2009, I had worked in the kitchen doing the same task. But while in the kitchen I left behind a good work record. And now Miss S had volunteered me to go back. For how long, I don't know. But I'm here!
D. B.
Note: Officer "S" is a pseudonym.
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