Current Events > I was leaving the convenience store in uniform one morning after getting my

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coffee on my way to work. A young man outside the store stopped me by asking, "Sir, may I speak to you?" I said, "Of course, young man, how may I help you?" He was so young. He couldn't have been more than twenty one. Eyes bright, body lean and sinewy like a farm boy. He was obviously nervous and stammered slightly when he spoke. "Sir, I want to work in corrections. Will you talk to me a minute?" I stood there for a moment and just looked at him. I set my coffee on the hood of my truck and said, "Son, have seat and I'll tell you everything you need to know." He sat on the curb on command, back straight, eyes bright. This is what I told him......"Son, there's only two types of inmates inside those walls. Those that you'v e already fought, and those you're gonna have to fight. There is not a moment of peace. Ever. 800 pound steel doors slam all hours of the day and night. On one tour of any unit, you will see men crying, men screaming, men laughing, men praying, and men slowly dying inside. Once you put on this uniform, you are a target. Not just in there, but everywhere you go. There is no CERT team at the local gas station at midnight when you stop for gas and realize every asshole in the parking lot is some asshole you've booked, printed, served meals too, pepper sprayed, tazed, or testified against in court. You lose all sense of security. Everyone is a potential threat. You stop eating in restaurants within fifty miles of your facility because some idiot will recognize you and spit in your kid's milkshake. You will become paranoid and distrusting of other people, even people you love. You will never again sit in a room with your back to the door and you will know every escape exit to every room you enter. You will walk around your car in the Walmart parking lot before getting in just to make sure no one's waiting for you or hidden in your back seat. You will take the long way home if a car falls in behind you on your way home. You will do back ground checks on your children's friends, parents, and teachers. You will look for potential weapons and run "what if" scenerios in every place you go....bars, schools, churches, even friend's homes. You will never again be an individual because your safety depends on a whole crew of other officers whose safety directly lies with you. And some of those officers will lie, steal, and cheat to screw you over. Some of those officers will be selling dope and cell phones to inmates. Some of officers will be alcoholics and drug addicts and be off sneaking a nip while your getting your ass handed to you in the rec yard. Cops look at your like your the idiot step child of law enforcement. The courts look at you as the oppressor of the poor and incarcerated. The public doesn't see you at all until you fuck up, then it's all over the 6 o'clock news. People will threaten your children, your wife, your mother, and your friends. You will be assaulted, have bones broken, be bled on, and go home bleeding. You will deal with diseases and contaminations that Chlorox won't take off. You will be over worked, underpaid, abused physically, mentally, and socially. You will be working nights, weekends, and holidays. Santa don't come to a state facility son. I stared him dead in the eyes for about 15 seconds and said "You still want to be a corrections officer? "The young man rose from his seat and looked me dead in the eye. He extended his hand. With a grip like steel, he shook my hand and said, "No sir, I do not. But can I ask you a question? Why do you do this if it's so bad?" I smiled as I picked up my coffee and said "People like me do this because people like you can't."
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