One of the hard things in prison is to find paint...
Oftentimes, it's in short supply. When something needs painting, a "work order" form has to be filled out by and employee, usually a guard or a sergeant. The form then goes to the office of the prison's maintenance department, where it gets reviewed and processed. After this, however, it becomes a matter of waiting.
First, you have to wait for someone in the maintenance department to see if there's any paint in stock. Second, you have to wait for the facility's sole painter, a husky Hispanic man in his early 30s, to go through his stack of work orders until he gets to yours.
Whenever I have to move into a different cell, I like to clean it and, if possible, paint it. But because paint is scarce, as I began to gather my belongings in preparation to move to my new location, I said a short prayer that I'd be able to get a hold of some paint.
Then, low and behold, as I pushed a moving cart which contained my property through the entryway of the building I was relocating to; it so happened that the painter was there. Usually, he's very difficult to find. And without neglecting the opportunity, I politely asked him what the chance was for my new cell to get a fresh coat of paint. He, in turn, told me to go and ask the correction officer who was in charge. I did. And the officer shrugged his shoulders. He then quickly turned to the inmate painter and said, "If you have enough paint, then take care of Berkowitz's cell." He did.
I then helped the painter lay down his protective tarp and waited until he was done. To be able to move into a freshly painted cell is a miracle!
D.B.
First, you have to wait for someone in the maintenance department to see if there's any paint in stock. Second, you have to wait for the facility's sole painter, a husky Hispanic man in his early 30s, to go through his stack of work orders until he gets to yours.
Whenever I have to move into a different cell, I like to clean it and, if possible, paint it. But because paint is scarce, as I began to gather my belongings in preparation to move to my new location, I said a short prayer that I'd be able to get a hold of some paint.
Then, low and behold, as I pushed a moving cart which contained my property through the entryway of the building I was relocating to; it so happened that the painter was there. Usually, he's very difficult to find. And without neglecting the opportunity, I politely asked him what the chance was for my new cell to get a fresh coat of paint. He, in turn, told me to go and ask the correction officer who was in charge. I did. And the officer shrugged his shoulders. He then quickly turned to the inmate painter and said, "If you have enough paint, then take care of Berkowitz's cell." He did.
I then helped the painter lay down his protective tarp and waited until he was done. To be able to move into a freshly painted cell is a miracle!
D.B.
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