I LIKE TO FISH

Yesterday, as I entered the administration building (the clubhouse before our lovely gated community) custody staff corralled me. Entryway to the time clock, lunchroom, and bathrooms were off limits; all doors were locked.

As I stood in line waiting for my turn to pass through the electronic gate and into a shakedown room, a corrections officer started passing out twenty-dollar bills. "Here’s that twenty I owe you," he kept saying. At our facility, the maximum allowable amount you can carry inside the joint is twenty bucks. (Later in the day, this same C.O. was busy trying to retrieve his money.) As I stood there, I pulled a breakfast bar out of my pocket and ate it. The coworker beside me shook his head at my obvious cover-up; you cannot bring food inside either.

When it was my turn in the shakedown room, a corrections officer searched my personal belongings. "Why is this in here?" the officer asked, pointing to a crappie rig in my lunch bag.

"Do you want the long explanation or the short explanation?"

"The short," he said.

"I like to fish."

After taking off my shoes and socks, and emptying my pockets, I waited for an officer to frisk me. No problem there.

The only difficulty I had had to do with that damn lunch of mine. Not so much the fishing gear, but the storage thereof of my freshly cut cantaloupe and ham sandwich.

"Put your lunch on the cart."

"Do you have a refrigerator in here?" I already knew the answer to that.

"We’ll make sure it gets refrigerated."

"How long will that be?" I asked.

My persistence paid-off. They allowed me access to the lunchroom. When I returned though, they made me get back in line for another shakedown. By now, I had had enough. What could I possibly smuggle in, after being searched and allowed access to a secured area? The sergeant decided it was a little too excessive and let me pass through.

Others were not so lucky:

A corrections officer didn’t leave his cell phone in his car. When he entered the administration building and saw the line, it was too late. He voluntarily informed the sergeant of his mistake, which in turn, resulted in an automatic five-day suspension without pay.

The librarian (why is it always the librarian?) wanted to use the bathroom. After being denied the luxury, he decided to utilize the parking lot. Upon his return, custody staff confiscated his identification card. The charge: Refusal of a shakedown. The consequence: Suspension with pay pending investigation and possible termination of employment.

Here’s my hypothetical question: If, after a long drive into work and a very large cup of coffee, would you be compliant? Or would you find a place to relieve yourself?