was because that mind feels compassion, anger and all of those other emotions that control what we do. Entering a prison is a place where my actions couldn't be governed by emotions. They had to be governed by the rules of the institution.
Quite often, my regular mind would creep in and get in the way. I would have to fight to get it back out of my way.
You can't be around some of these guys without being friends with them. There are others you can't be around without wishing Minnesota had a quick death penalty system with no appeals.
It was a great feeling when I retired knowing that I would never have to step back in that place again. At the same time it was quite sad. There were a lot of those guys that I knew I would miss.
There are people I had conflicts with that I miss, because there were people in that place that were intelligent enough to realize that my decisions were based on doing my job. I could respect people who came to me that disagreed with me. Those people helped me and the institution a lot. An inmate having the guts to tell me exactly how they viewed things was what I needed in order to make the most intelligent decision possible. I have always looked at things with the perspective of the more informed one is the better decision one can make and the better one can feel about having made the best decision possible. I was always open to hear what anyone had to say. I truly miss the diversity of perspectives and ideas these guys had. It felt good when I could incorporate that additional information into my decisions.
It was a constant battle in my head when I realized I was friends with an inmate. I felt like it was wrong. I felt like it was forbidden and against the rules. I can say that I was able to maintain objectivity and treat everyone the same, but that was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. Obviously, there were people I communicated with more and had a good time with. I frequently miss those conversations with so many of those guys. I saw things the way they saw things more than I saw things the way institution policy was laid out.
I can see how so many institution policies came about, even the ridiculous ones. One person does something stupid, so a policy is made that states that it is a violation, just in case anyone ever tries it again. Because of common sense not being allowed in courts, someday there may be a policy specifically stating how much snot an inmate is allowed to blow into a piece of toilet paper and the only allowable process acceptable to dispose of it.
There I go with my regular mind creeping in and letting out a bit of anger, but I caught it in time, I think.
It is difficult to write about feelings, especially when my persona was not to be feeling. According to a lot of the guys, I failed quite often at this.
CYA
In case you didn't already know, CYA is the acronym for "Cover Your Ass." Those three words cover everyone's responsibilities in the joint; inmates included. Those three words should be going through everyone's mind before they do anything here.
The best way to CYA is to "Know the Rules." If you know the rules and follow them you won't get in trouble as often as someone who doesn't. A problem here is that when I started working here there were supposedly three huge volumes of rule books in every lieutenant's office. Officers could've taken them and read them at a shower post or during a slow time at a door post. In their ultimate wisdom, someone higher up got the bright idea that once we got computers in the blocks, they would get rid of these manuals. They had all the information put into the computer and felt there was no longer a need for the books. Wrong! Someone always had to do work on the computer and guess what? There are no computers at the shower post or door post. These are areas that during certain parts of the day, it would be safe to read these books.
Even if you knew all of the rules forward and back and knew every angle to them or around them, you can still get in trouble. Every big shot saw things differently and enforced things differently. Every lieutenant, sergeant and officer saw things differently and enforced things differently. Everyplace in the institution was run by someone different, so the rules were different. If a different person was in charge of a cellblock from the day before, the rules were different. If a lieutenant walked through your assigned area, no matter what, you better know their pet peeves or you could get in trouble.
There was one lieutenant, who was not in charge of any cellblock that would pop into any cellblock at anytime, quickly walk down the cellblock and try to catch anyone he could at anything he could, whether or not the lieutenant in charge of that block was fine with it or not. He would even write someone up if they had their foot on the railing at the shower post.
If a situation arose where there was no cut and dried way of handling it, you could get in trouble if someone above you would've done things differently; even if the results of your actions were positive.
I schooled the inmates on CYA. I told them to just figure there was a rule against everything. This was a slight over statement, but only a slight one. I told them, when in doubt, ask an officer and that it wouldn't hurt to have a buddy or two close to hear what was said. I also told them to remember the date, time and name of the officer they asked and specifically what was said. This was because anyone ranking higher than that officer, that didn't like what that officer said, or didn't like the officer or the inmate, might put pressure on that officer to lie. You have to be able to say "so and so told me this was OK." That way your ass is covered, so long as they don't lie about it.
Here is a mild example of CYA that I ran into toward the end of my time in Stillwater. I received a call at work from an inmate that had been released. He had been a cell hall worker for me. He called wanting me to be a job reference for him. They are not allowed to contact us. If something like this happens, we have to notify our superiors. I notified my sergeant, lieutenant, case worker (past sergeant), investigations and the Watch Commander. It was necessary to notify all of these people in order to CYA.
SHIFT HISTORY
After about 3 months of jumping through hoops, interviews, tests, medical examinations, I started academy on August 30, 2000. My rate of pay was $10.71 per hour.
After completing academy, I started out on the 2nd Watch Utility position with Tuesday's & Wednesday's off.
"Utility" means that you can be assigned anywhere in the prison. You could be in segregation one day, tower the next, visiting the next... You go where ever you are needed.
Wednesday was the first day of the pay period. I had my last day of the academy on Tuesday, so they gave me Thursday off. This made my first day of actual work Friday, October 13, 2000. How's that for starting off on the right foot in a place like this. I started on Friday the 13th.
Eventually I was told that I was being forced to 1st Watch. I had expected this and it was OK as far as I was concerned. Being forced into a position still leaves you being able to bid elsewhere if something pops up that you are interested in. If you bid on a position, you are not allowed to bid on anything for another 3 months. If your dream position becomes available during that 3 month period, you are out of luck. If you perceive that there is a dream position in this place, you have been out of luck for a long time.
One week after being informed that I was being forced to 1st watch, I was informed that things had changed and that I was being forced to the visiting room instead. I told them that they told me they were forcing me to 1st watch and I was holding them to it. They found no humor in that. Hey, it was worth a shot.
I started in the visiting room on February 28, 2001. Checking out nuts & butts all day was not my idea of a great career move. I let it be known that if I got stuck there for long, I would be quitting. Little did I know at the time what a good career move that would've been.
The place I had worked most up until this time was segregation. Most people did not like to work seg because it was loud and smelly. You had to work hard and put up with more pissed off assholes than if you worked other areas. Pissed off assholes can be quite entertaining at times. I liked being busy, it made the time go faster. A job like this isn't a dream job; it's a job to pay the bills. Many officers here have a second job, especially if they have a family