Day 44 - 8/5/21 - Thurs.
- mainemoviepirate
- 31 minutes ago
- 2 min read
Journal Entry:
“Up at 5:00 AM, HLR drink, Wahoo! First day in the kitchen! Wa-hoo??!? Got to tread lightly, remember... under the radar. Except... I also want to excel in whatever I do. Quite a quandary.
BREAKFAST: Ate some, because I don’t know what the kitchen deal is yet. Cereal-Cake—same old.
Looks like I’m on water-silver(plastic)ware-table wipe-down duty. Two meals, three if you count short line. J.K. is showing me the ropes. He’s a cool, older guy. F*cked by the system (ain’t we all). Has a lot of good stories and insight on life. Not a bad gig. We’ll see how it goes. At least the pay is good: nine or ten cents per hour.
LUNCH: Bone-in-chicken (Prison term, I think), sweet potato, salad.
Now that I am an essential, official worker, I will have access to the lunch hall between meals, basically a lighted place when the other two are closed or the lights are off. Just chilled between meals. Got commissary; didn’t get everything, but got shoes and another notebook, so all is good.
SUPPER: Hot Dogs, tater tots, cabbage. Can’t really remember because I was mostly focused on the water glasses during mealtime.
Went out and did two laps, hung outside, will get more done tomorrow.”
Notes for Day 44 (Four Years Later)
A short entry, but an important day. My first day “on the job” in the kitchen. I’ve always tried to be a hard worker all my life until a major illness in 2014 took me out of the game for quite a while, and while I was recovering, this federal copyright case started against me. So I was somewhat nervous about what prison would be like for me and the expectations of the prisoners doing manual labor.
So my first “job” in prison was basically a busy-work job given to all the old guys and/or those who were physically infirmed. Fine by me; I do very well when the expectations of me are extremely low. I love being underestimated. Plus, as I would soon discover, I had plenty of other ‘real work’ that would take most of my waking hours.
One more thing about J.K., my kitchen worker trainer. We would end up being really good friends, and this is the first time I’ve thought about using his full name here, just because I knew he wouldn’t give a flying f*ck. He was (and hopefully still is) a real character and just generally a good guy. One of those who made my prison stay not only tolerable, but at times enjoyable and highly educational.
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