They Ended Up Spending Quality Time Together After All

, , , , , , | Legal | December 4, 2019

(I am picking up some stuff for Christmas dinner with my family, looking like a cross between a college student and hipster, when a rather rude man approaches me.)

Rude Man: “Hey, hot momma, where you been hiding?”

Me: *instantly on guard* “Nowhere that concerns you. Excuse me, please.”

Rude Man: *doing his best to block my exit* “Where you think you’re going? Here I am being a nice guy, and you just blow me off!”

Me: “I apologize; I am in a bit of a hurry and not feeling up to chatting with a strange man at the store. I need to get past you so I can check out and get home to my family. Please step aside, now.”

(I admit, the word “now” came out with more force than I intended. The man is over a foot taller than me, blocking me into a very small space, and causing me to feel very crowded. I have PTSD from some pretty nasty events I have experienced at work, and I dislike being blocked off, so my “work” personality is creeping out. As a brief backstory, I work in a maximum-security prison, but I do not look like it in any way when I am not at work. I purposely make sure I look feminine and am friendly when off-the-clock as it takes a toll to always be the tough guy. Unfortunately, that, coupled with the fact I look barely 18, makes me be underestimated by basically everyone. At this point, the man starts to puff up; he shifts his stance to be more aggressive and “intimidating.”)

Rude Man: *while leaning towards me* “You need to change your tone, little lady, or a man might have to step up and change it for you.”

Me: *internally sighing from frustration* “Bigger and scarier men than you have tried; you are not even phasing me at this point. Step aside, and let me get home to my family. I am not about to deal with this nonsense when I am off the clock.”

Rude Man: *clenching his fists and acting like he is about to either grab at me or swing* “I am not done talking to you yet!”

(He started to raise his voice and started swearing at me and threatening me. This allowed the clerk at the register nearby to realize that there was a person being blocked by this troll, and he and another male employee came over and helped to defuse the situation, allowing me to get to the register and out of the store. I promptly forgot about this man shortly after regaling my family with the story while popping some popcorn for our movie bash that night. What brings me to write this story now is that a few hours ago, I was processing some new intakes from our diagnostic facility and came across one with a 15- to 50-year sentence, recently convicted, and already with a staff-assault under his belt and pending in the court system, that looked oddly familiar. When I collected him from intake to restrain and escort him to our segregation unit, he got a deer-in-headlights look before saying, “S***, I f***** up now.” It was the guy from the store, and turns out he has a few assault charges now.)

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They’ll Be Having A Ball In Prison

, , , , , | Legal | June 8, 2019

There are two small prisons on the outskirts of our little town; one sits right beside the road, and the other you have to drive a half-mile down a dead-end road to get to in the dense woods. Despite this, people will “accidentally” stumble upon the second prison and “lose” their drugs, phones, etc.

But these two guys take the cake.

In the middle of broad daylight, these two guys decide to play football in the woods and then “accidentally” throw their ball over the fence. Once the ball flies over the barbed wire, they take off running back into the woods while the guards call deputies to the scene.

The ball is intercepted by the guards who realize the ball is actually being held together by duct tape. When they open it up, it’s full to the brim with drugs, pills, and cellphones.

The guys are arrested, and to this day have been the most creative in doing a drop-off.

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Will Not Be A Prisoner To Your Annoyances

, , , | Legal | May 12, 2019

(I’ve been working at this prison for a few weeks when I finally get my night shifts. It’s my first night and I’m alone — pretty standard — after finishing my count when a cell bell goes off. I wander down to the cell and open the little door covering the glass panel to find a distinctly Indian man staring at me.)

Me: “Yes?”

Prisoner: “What is your name?”

Me: “OSG [My Surname]. What do you want?”

Prisoner: “Nothing.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I close the hatch and make it all the way back to the office before another cell bell sounds; it’s the same cell. Annoyed, I head back.)

Me: “What?”

Prisoner: “How long have you worked here?”

Me: “Do you actually want something, or are you just trying to piss me off? No? Yes? Bye.”

(Growling, I head back to the office, hoping he’s had enough. I’ve been warned that inmates tend to try this on with “new blood,” so I’m prepped for it. Not five minutes pass before the bell goes again and — surprise, surprise — it’s my new friend.)

Me: “I will report this to the Senior PO and request your television be removed if you keep this up, inmate.”

Prisoner: *clearly realising that, despite being female, I actually have balls* “Erm… I just… Do you want a cup of tea?”

Me: “And how exactly do you propose getting it to me through the four inches of steel that makes up this door? Think about it and let me know when you come up with a solution…”

(Safe to say, I didn’t have any more issues that night.)

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Unfiltered Story #147852

, , | Unfiltered | April 25, 2019

(I work at a Federal penitentiary as an administrative assistant but work in one of the living units rather than one of the administrative buildings. This means that I’m always near inmates at all times. This interaction takes place on a warm summer day as I am walking to the unit in which I work.)

Inmate: “Shouldn’t it be illegal to lock someone up on a day as beautiful as this?”

Me: *with a quizzical look* “I suppose you shouldn’t have committed a crime to land you in prison.”

Inmate: *pauses* “Touché.”

(I roll my eyes and go about my day.)

Hopefully, He Gets Out Within A Dog’s Age

, , , , , | Legal | January 9, 2019

(I work in a jail. After some scouring, the Chaplain and I have managed to get together enough gently-used books to update the jail library, including a few movie novelizations. One of these new books, “A Dog’s Purpose,” is picked up by a hardened gang member and career criminal. Later that night, the officers are doing a check in the dorms and find the man curled up on his bunk, crying his eyes out.)

Officer #1: “Hey, you all right?”

Inmate: “I’m all right, CO. I miss my dog.”

Officer #2: “Excuse me?”

Inmate: “My dog, Taco, she’s a little mix breed. My Mama is watching her. God, I miss her.”

Officer #1: “Well, you’re going to court next week, right? Any chance you’ll get out then?”

Inmate: “Yeah, my lawyer said I might get three years probation.”

(Last I heard, the guy did get probation and managed to turn his life around. Seems like everyone who read the book made a change of heart.)

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