This is an amazing cover of a mildly popular song. However it sounds NOTHING like the original. I think that is a good thing. You decide.

To download the MP3 of this song, “right Click” here and “save target as..”.

E-mail me if that doesn’t work. I can get it for you I think.

I am entering this essay into the corrections.com newsletter contest. What do you think?

Do you remember your first job? Mine was busing tables at a local restaurant that served greasy food and had a “specialty” of seafood. I liked it – the job, not the seafood – but there were always the harder days. Sometimes things just went wrong. Sometimes I had to deal with that especially annoying customer who just had to have their coffee from a “fresh pot”, or I accidentally would spill a tray of water glasses on a table full of patrons. However, I look back now and think how trivial my problems were in contrast to the daily trials we face as officers.

Let me start by saying that I never thought I would ever end up “visually inspecting” body cavities for drugs. When I was in high school, I had no clue what I wanted to be. I remember my graduation party as approximately one-thousand explanations of my inability to decide what I wanted to do with my life. However, I distinctly remember NEVER saying that I might want to be a corrections officer, and I am quite sure that wrestling with drunks, disciplining grown men about hygiene, and cleaning the occasional fecal matter from walls was also not in the plans. I think that most people, at least those I have talked to, don’t actually make a conscious decision to become a corrections officer. Have you ever heard a child tell their parents “Mom, Dad, I wanna be a corrections officer when I grow up.”? I haven’t. Since it’s not exactly a glamorous job, it’s rarely in the top ten.

There aren’t many jobs that have the assaultive danger potential that a job in corrections does; there is nothing like the feeling of walking into an area that has just been locked down for unruly behavior, or walking by the same window of the inmate who just got locked down for disrespect. The ill will is like one of those days when the air conditioning quits working – hot and oppressive. However, I think there is pride to be taken from this job too, not just hate and discontent.

I try and take pride from the work I do; not the yelling, or disciplining, or even the “keeping the bad guys locked up” image that the general public sees, but more of a personal pride. Like they say, “It’s all in the little things.” For instance, when I am asked by an inmate if I am able to get something for them and I say that I will get it for them, I take pride that I will do my best to do what I say. If there is a situation that warrants an open ear, I will try and lend one. When someone needs to just “vent a little” about how crappy they feel, if I am able, I listen. I am not always able to do these things, but that is how I gauge my day. I gauge it by not how busy I was, how frustrating the inmates were, or how tired I am, but with the question “Did I do the best job I could today?”.

I know that every job has it’s ups and downs. I also know that this job has it’s pros and (pardon the pun) cons (hold the applause until the end of the show), but I don’t think that the type of job a person has really makes any difference . I think that it (meaning fulfillment, or job happiness, or whatever you seek in a job) comes from completing each day knowing that you did the best you could.

Recently, I was had to deal with a mouthy inmate. The set-up, is that we have to drive inmates to court on certain days of the week. We have a brand new court room in our jail, but it isn’t used yet, so until then, we take our felony docket inmates to court for certain court dates.

This inmate is a female who has been in a couple of times before, and she always swears that she won’t come back when she leaves. (Don’t they all?) Anyway, this particular female is sort of hardened now, and she likes to portray her self that way in front of other inmates. On this particular day, she was causing her usual ruckus, and I confronted her and told her that I would not put up with it. She said something back to me under her breath, abut I let it go since she was now being quiet. After about an hour or so into the court docket, I heard her again, and noticed that she was making a point of telling everyone how she didn’t care about the new charges she “caught” and that the judge could (well, you can imagine). When it came for her time to sit in the hall and await her turn in the court room, I asked her if she remembered what I had told her earlier. She said that she did, and that she was actually just really nervous about what the judge was going to do. She began to cry.

Ok, let me just say that tears don’t phase me anymore unless they come from my wife or kids, even then, it had better be serious. So when this girl began to cry, my first instinct was to just “roll my mind’s eye”, and move on, but I decided to listen instead. Basically she just needed to talk about how she felt and that she was scared of what was going to happen. When she was talking, I asked questions, and my interest seemed to calm her a little. After a couple of minutes, she seemed to calm down enough to be able to gather herself, and soon it was her turn in the court room.

She never said “thank you for listening” or that she was grateful, but I don’t expect that. If I only did things for inmates so they would thank me, I would be sorely disappointed. I don’t do things for gratitude and I don’t really even do them because it is my duty. I usually just do them, because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be doing a good job.

I think that there are people who just do the minimum. When I was in the service, we called them empty uniforms. I am sure we can all think of someone who might fit into this category. I only know that I don’t want to ever feel like I am one of these empty uniforms. The only way I can achieve this is to constantly try and have a better day than the one before. If I fail, and find that at the end of a day, I didn’t do the best I could, I always know that there is tomorrow.

Any Comments would be appreciated. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism only, please.

I was perusing the web, as I usually do when I am bored, and I came upon this little gem of a video. Think of this as a test of your funny-bone. If have an ounce of humanity, then this will most likely make you laugh. If you don’t, you are probably a homicidal maniac, and you need to leave this website immediately and go HERE.

If you can’t see the video, go HERE.