MyTimeToBlog
My cell's door rattled open and closed. Red rushed to the door, peering out at the booth, waving his hand through the tray slot. The booth officer noticed him waving and opened the cell door. Red motioned to the booth officer what she wanted, and he received his answer: they wanted me for work.
I cleaned up, dressed, then marched outside with my work crew who was housed with me. We headed towards the boulevard's booth, meeting up with one of our supervisors. He informed us that the Major wanted to speak with us. So, we moved to the Watch Office and waited.
The Major came out and informed us that we would be taking tray carts to the intake buildings. He wanted to stop the flow of drugs into those buildings. His idea was that we would take the carts into the buildings, then leave. That way, those intakes wouldn't be able to get out of the building and get their hands on drugs.
My crew and I just shook our heads. We're now--the five of us--taking carts to the buildings, picking up and dumping trash, and mowing the entire facility's grounds. All of this with a pay rate of 45 cents an hour; a 40-hour workweek.
The first day, we were in scramble mode because we were trying to figure out how to get the carts to their buildings. You see, we're being told too many different ways to get things done by correction officers, booth officers, and our supervisor. We just said screw it and took the carts to the housing units--fourteen carts in all, three times a day.
As the days progressed, I'm learning we'll be mowing grass soon. The entire facility in one day. Think about five football fields with three Zero Turn Lawnmowers, weed eaters, lawnmowers, and a blower. Two supervisors on the Zero Turns, Vontae (one of my crew members) drove the last one. Me, Chino, and Mickey J were using the weed eaters.
We first had to pick up the food carts and deliver them, then do our trash duties. The day was hot, and we're off to the two massive recreation yards. I'm on one side of the yard swinging that weed eater, while everybody is off doing their task. It took us half an hour to get the first recreation yard done.
Sweat built up, and nobody had any water. I'm parched. So was everybody else as the sun's rays cooked our tails. We headed for the second yard, and that's when my sciatic nerve groaned. I'm moving snail slow, from one picnic table to the next, grimacing as I bend forward to reach under it.
One of the men from our work crew showed up, but departed when one of the supervisors didn't relinquish the Zero Turn he drove. I shook my head, but kept working. We completed the recreation yard, going back to the main boulevard, while our supervisors refilled the weed-eaters' gas tanks.
My crew and I grabbed the lawnmowers and began working our way up the boulevard. We're inside the gates for the Vocation building. Small patches of grass being mowed by a cheap lawnmower with shredded wheels.
Vontae grabbed us some bottle waters from a cooler that the COs used. We're taking long gulps as the sun continues to cook us. The water helped, as did Vontae taking over the lawnmower, passing me the backpack blower.
I'm heading up and down the boulevard, blowing grass shavings into the grass patches. My sciatic nerve cried more and more, but I'm fighting through it as we learned count time cleared--chow time.
We handed off all the equipment to the supervisors, then got in line for lunch. A crappy tray of undercooked chicken. I didn't eat it, because the last time I did it made me puke. So, I sipped lukewarm water, waiting for my crew to assist me with taking the lunch carts to the building.
I'm pushing carts, hearing the Zero Turns cutting the back entrance for deliveries, and transfers coming and going. I hopped on an elevator, riding it up to Upper C & D's housing units. I'm off, banging and banging for the booth officer to open the doors to allow me entrance.
We're done with this job in half an hour. Now it's back to cutting the front entrance. This time we had Stan with us. He was just hired and eager to work. So, he's handed a weed eater, then left to his own devices. This lasted for another hour. Finally, we're done with the facility's grass.
I'm spent, but couldn't take a shower: dinner needed delivering. I sat in my sweaty clothes, waiting for dinner. Some of the crew just called it a day, so me, Vontae, and Stan were out there working again. We delivered the carts, ate chow, which was another crappy meal. While eating, we decided to leave the carts for the night shift crew.
I finally returned to my housing unit, where I removed myself from those sweaty, grass-stained clothes, then drowned my person in scalding hot water. It kept me from teetering over, because my body was exhausted. I couldn't lean on the walls for assistance, because those walls had horror stories from men doing ungodly things. I'm standing upright, washing myself clean. When I was done, I lumbered up to my cell and closed my eyes...until count time.
The entire day was spent making this facility run smoothly, while my fight for freedom was pushed to the side. When I realized that, I shook my head. Why? I made it more about them than me. That wouldn't happen again.
I'm interviewing for a Peer Mentor job. I'd rather do that than lose a day making $4.50 that couldn't buy me anything but a tall tale on how in being fleeced for jobs that nobody would do for what I'm being paid.
Oh well, when I'm home, I'll know one thing: whatever job I'm getting paid for would never slave me as hard a the job I did in one day. Not a single one.