A Just Another Day in the Life of a Correction Officer

I'm a forty year old displaced, white, male, factory worker. I'm a good and honest man. My wife thinks I'm too honest for my own good sometimes but that's just the way I've always been. I've been working in corrections for four years now and for the last two I have been working towards my degree in Human Services and Correction Management. I couldn't get any other work that paid this good and so...here I am. I work housing relief, I have for four years. Housing relief is an officer that works the housing units exclusively and fills in for the "good days" of the regular dorm officer. Housing relief is the hardest job in the camp, but I like the challenge of something new all the time. This is just one day in my life.

I've just finished my good days (the weekend) which for me is Monday and Tuesday. In corrections it's a 24/7 operation and if you don't have at least 13-14 years in the system you'll never get a weekend off. They call the weekend days your "good days" because every day that you don't have to be in the prison is a good day. I spend my "good days" taking college classes. It's now eight o'clock Wednesday night and I start to prepare for my first day back inside. I make sure I have my uniform pressed and I adorn it with my name tag, badge, pen, and prison I.D.. I gather my gun belt and boots, tee-shirt, boxers, black socks and my chew. I grab a quick pinch of snuff to calm my nerves as I get into the shower. Already I'm dreading the thought of going into work, the thought of dealing with the asshole inmates, the thought that I may not be able to please my peers (corrections is very cliquey), and the thought that I may not come home, constantly in the back of my mind. Of course, I don't ever let the thought of fear come to far to the front of my consciousness and would never admit it to anyone; for fear of showing weakness to those around me (inmates, family, friends or coworkers) although each for obviously different reasons.