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24 August 2015 @ 06:55 pm
A week in the life...  
A week in the life of a juvenile corrections officer:


Sunday
Tried to make meals for at least one week because I knew I’d be working a lot and have little time to cook every day. Heck, I barely have time to sleep so I’m not tired, shower, and go the gym. I try to always have at least three meals for work, my metabolism being such that I need to eat every 3-4 hours and because I’m trying to eat well, I have to cook. I had everything except chicken, so I made at least one meal for the whole week, plus breakfast. That was…stressful.

Monday
Went to the gym, took a nap in my car at work before working, went in for grave shift (10p-6a). No issues. I kept hearing about this kid in Bravo, Miguel. He’s a real fruit loop, talks to himself in English then answers himself in Spanish, but he was unconscious all night.

Tuesday
I didn’t work. Went to the gym and otherwise didn’t do much. Or if I did do anything, it doesn’t stand out in my mind.

Wednesday
Went to the gym, napped in my car, get to work…and there he is. Miguel. Of course, this is the day that my non-favorite supervisor is working, “R.” I can’t recall who my fellow officers were that night, “S” and someone else. Miguel is now SPL-1 (suicide prevention level 1, which is five minute checks for eight hours) because he was apparently found with a blanket wrapped around his neck when he was in Bravo. This is the third suicide attempts we’ve had this year and that was not counting the schizophrenic, highly violent female we had for most of the year – she finally got transferred out to a mental ward just as Miguel came in. Miguel is now in Holding cell #4 which is basically a large windowed room with a camera and a bench. HC#4 is also right next to Central Control where we officers have to camp out because of his five minute checks. Despite the glass being thick, we can still hear everything. So Miguel is talking about “666,” the devil, and “Sante de Muerta” (Saint of Death, which is the drug cartel’s little saint/god thing, basically the virgin Mary as a skeleton or a zombie or something equally stupid). He’s singing off-key, off-beat, in freaking Spanish for most of the night.

Apparently Tuesday he’d also defecated on his mattress and covered it with a blanket. He did it on purpose because the staff  (namely “R”) were harassing him a bit as Miguel was harassing the staff. Tonight, he will not keep his suicide gown on, so he’s flashing himself and masturbating, on camera, all night. This is after he’d nearly spanked a female officer on the rear earlier. We did put a sheet over the windows to prevent him from being…well. We did checks by peeking in on him (because as per policy, we can’t just look on the flipping camera though the camera usually shows better detail than what we see through physically looking through the window). His court date is over two weeks away – and that’s just his “competency” hearing (Miguel threatened a man and his two young daughters at a bus station at knife point – saying he needed to use their cell phone to call his boss about picking up his paycheck, which is felony harassment. Miguel’s parents refused to speak with him during booking, his mother apparently thinks he is “normal” though he has a history of mental illness and meds he’s refused to take in the past).

There are no mental health beds available anywhere to take him. I find his story, which he continues to stick to, to be BS. This kid can’t work anywhere, though he says he works in the fields picking tomatoes or something. Oh, and whenever he wants something, he pushes the button in his cell – this activates a loud buzzer that doesn’t stop until Central stops it, although the flashing strobe light continues. My co-workers were too lazy to turn the light off (I didn’t have the proper keys to do it myself), so it was on. ALL NIGHT. I can get headaches or even be unable to sleep from crap like that. Their excuse? “He’ll just push it again in a minute.” For whatever reason, he will not sleep, just wandering around his cell, doing weird things. He takes Lorazepan at 3:30am (that’s five and a half hours into our shift, leaving 3.5 hours of peace theoretically). I think he slept okay that night.

Thursday
I didn’t go to my endurance class at the park. We have over 100 fires burning across the state so the smoke was unbearable, giving me throbbing headaches and allergies. Just today (Monday) I’m seeing films and flecks of ash on my car. It looks like California smog outside and it’s hard for everyone to breathe. I was running out of healthy food ideas and that stressed me out on top of knowing that when I got to work, I wouldn’t be able to read my book (I’m on book 3/3 which is the best one), I’d have five minute checks, and dealing with CooCoo for Coco Puffs. “R” is still there and so is “D”, a very opinionated, very talkative, very repetitive guy so I know I won’t be reading at all. There was less singing, still plenty of strobe-light. “R’s” kid woke up in the middle of the night with a bad headache and slight fever – his mother freaking out and calling doctors, considering taking him to the hospital. The doctor mentioned meningitis because they let their child play on a cellphone, bent over, frequently. I told them it was freaking dehydration. (The next time I spoke with “R” on Sunday, he gave me a look when I asked about his son. So I comfort you and deal with you freaking out about your stupid kid, then I ask about it and you look at me like I’m off base. His answer, a testy, “He’s fine.” The last time I talk to you. What “R” wanted to talk about on Sunday was his boozy/fight night party on Saturday. Priorities).

“D” also called supervisor “R” a ‘bitch’ in front of me because “D” has the coping skills of a 12 year old. Very professional. This begins the age-old argument of “can part-timers who have worked here for 2+ years sit in at Central when policy says they can’t run Central because they aren’t trained/certified” even as “R” leaves me in Central several times. I can’t get in trouble for it; it’s their liability. It’s flattering that they trust me. If I ever wanted to get any full-timer (who leaves me in Central) in major/fireable trouble, I could. I don’t have to be there at all to help out, but I do because that’s good teamwork.

Friday
Went to the gym, another nap in the car. Lazy-as-heck male co-worker “H” is back, as is female “E.” Her story as follows: neighbor’s “daughter’s” pitbull broke the fence, snuck up on her youngest daughter, attacked her Chihuahua, dragged small dog into “E’s” house by the throat, “E” somehow gets her hands inside the pitbull’s mouth, yanks it open, gets her daughter’s inside, shoves the dog out and closes the door. The Chihuahua had a penetrated trachea and lung, “E” had a single tooth bite to one finger, her daughter a non-penetrating claw scratch to her upper lip. Once she was calmed down, she complained at how horribly Miguel was behaving – by this time, he was quite calm and MUCH quieter, no singing, less any flashing/masturbating. She had little to complain about compared to earlier in the week that I had to deal with. There was three-quarters of serious talk of pepper-spraying his dick. He urinated in the corner after he’d asked to use the bathroom a few hours earlier (so he knew how to ask).

He was decreased to SPL-2 (ten minute checks) My favorite supervisor, “K” is there today. Then “H” and “E” get a call from an old co-worker whom I don’t know. They slack off in a minor emergency when Miguel asks to use the bathroom, which should have been “H’s” job as he’s male and “E” was off doing other room checks and “K” was in his office. “H” being lazy, stays on the phone and he can’t leave Central because he’s full time, so that leaves yours truly to let this nutjob out to the bathroom. He initially refused his pill. More strobe light giving me double the headache. Miguel kept wanting water but he also kept urinating, so he was reduced to one cup an hour but he still pushes the button no matter what we say, activating the light, which my co-workers keep on.

Saturday
I didn’t go to the endurance class because of smoke and offered 4 hours of overtime (I never get overtime, being part-time as I am) for a total of 12 hours of work, not the expected 8. Miguel was still on 10 minute checks. By today, he was quite quiet. Still restless and not sleeping. “K” had figured out to let him watch a few movies. I think that’s messed up. Kid’s get sent to jail to watch movies for threatening people – talk about a mixed message. You know he’s developmentally disabled because he didn’t react once to any of the movies – just sat still and stared. “H” is there, being chummy with “M”. She was a part-timer hired about 9 months ago. I never liked her. Her voice is annoying; she’s a suck-up. I swear she lied to me about her age and one other thing I can’t recall when she was part-time. Why would she lie about anything? The comforting word on the street is that everyone still wanted me to be hired, not her. I got the low-down on some other work drama (a sub-supervisor sleeping with his subordinate and hitting on others– no one was surprised). The guy who I liked and who liked me since I started working there has since knocked up his girlfriend – this is Mr. Catholic Saint who lectures all the other ‘sinners’ at work – adults and juveniles alike.
 
Anyway, “M” got the full-time position I applied for. She’s busy brown-nosing everyone. I didn’t talk to her. 12 hours with her. I mostly read my book in Golf pod and let them deal with it because they’re full time and I can get away with murder. Miguel kept his clothes on (he has clothes now, instead of the suicide gown) so of course, “M” didn’t have to deal with that. The one week I work the whole week and I get this crap. I think I cracked my computer maybe 3x all week. I did get Pinterest to work on my new phone. I bought a phone cover from Amazon – obviously a foreign person by the name, just started, no reviews. It was overpriced (shipping for this 0 ounce cover was $10+). I can’t get it on/off and the cover is pixilated, brown (should be reddish brown), no receipt, etc. I ask to return it, the guy contacts me asking for a photo (unfortunately my phone is so great that it makes the cover look better than it is in person). I don’t sent a photo, ask for a refund. The guy says he’ll give me my “money back, can you give me a good review?” Either he doesn’t understand English or he just doesn’t write English. There’s no way he’s getting any stars but I’m of half a mind that he’s holding my money hostage for a good rating. We’ll see. Now my phone is acting like my old phone. The phone is a new, 2 year old model.

The moral of the story: GET YOUR KIDS VACINATED!
 
 
 
game_byrd: Gif ZQ Inconceivablegame_byrd on August 25th, 2015 03:47 am (UTC)
Oh wow, that sucks. Glad it's behind you. Last week at my work was pretty rough as well, but less on the obnoxious side and more on the 'I'm having to tell people whose livelihood depends on getting our work that they're not getting our work' side. It's not like I'm super-humane and care a lot, but I know this is awful news for them and the chance of an emotional outburst or retaliation of some sort is high. Especially when one of them is losing a $2 million a year business he was going to leave to his sons. I'm sorry guy, but you've been overcharging us by double for more than a decade. By now, you should have $10 million sitting in an account somewhere to coast on for the rest of your life.

He sent me an email Friday saying he was going to take us up on our offer to allow him to revise his pricing, after his attempt to bluff during the face-to-face meeting failed.

I think I met with 15 different suppliers and visited two machine shops (both of which failed the initial quality audit, which means more work on our end as we work out if it's really worthwhile to work an improvement plan with them). I was seriously peopled out.

But hey, no one masturbated at me! I didn't have to work in an environment of annoying and painful stimulus. So there's that. :)
means2bhumanmeans2bhuman on August 25th, 2015 07:07 am (UTC)
That's intense, too! Corporations fascinate me (not necessarily in a good way). You got to be Bad news Betty for a week, but you survived.

In my field, they say that's a good day: "No one died or masturbated at me."