TIPS FOR CORRECTIONAL FACILITY ACCESS

Heidy-Ho, Blogging Buddies!!

As I continue the quest for employment, I am learning things along the way that might be helpful to you at some point in your life. I feel the sharing of my knowledge is the best I can do to assist you.

So... a while back, I had an interview scheduled at a Correctional Facility just across the Sabine River into Texas. The position was to be in the business office. I was given specific directions to facilitate my locating the premises and made a "test run" to be certain I would find it easily and to time the trip. Don't want to be late for an interview! Bad Form!!

The day arrived. I was to interview at 10:30 a.m. I was up and appropriately attired in plenty of time and left the house a wee bit early just in case of any traffic issues, etc.

As I pulled into the very long driveway lined with large trees, it was clear no one would have misidentified the facility. VERY tall chain link fencing topped with loops of razor wire surrounded pretty much every building... including the one into which I needed entry.

Regardless of what some of you may believe, I have NOT spent time at such a facility in the past. :) I parked under the trees, gathered up my purse and folder, and walked toward the first building facing me. When I was nearer, I noted there was a locked gate, a small "boxed in" area surrounded by the fencing, then another gate. Hmmmmmm. Well, there is a camera mounted to my right and up a little bit. Perhaps if I just smile into the camera, someone will recognize I am not there to do harm and push the magic button inside that will open the gate outside. Uh-huh.

Let me back up a bit. There is NOTHING posted on the gate or the fencing where entry is achieved. NOTHING!! No signage... no arrows... no crude drawings providing a hint... no NOTHING!!

Okay. So, I look up at the camera and hear a "click" at the gate. I had noted, during my scan for instructions that did not exist, there was a large piece of metal on the ground to my left below the hinge for the gate. Was it broken? Did anyone know about this? Is that why the gate was not opening after I heard the "click?"

There was no sound emanating from the gate area. Clearly photos were all that were required... audible communication was not. I continued to stand at the gate. I continued to hear the "click" followed by absolutely nothing. At this point, I debated whether I should simply turn and walk back to the truck, climb in, and leave the premises. No... I was here... I would prevail.

After about 6 or 7 "click" sounds, a small man in a white jumpsuit (clearly a trustee) came to the front door of the building, opened it, and yelled "PULL ON THE GATE!" I laughed, waited for the now-familiar "click", and did so. It opened as did the second gate. I walked into the building laughing at how amusing the whole scenario must have been!

The "reception" area was not exactly a "Better Homes and Gardens" environment. After walking to the fully-shielded area where two young ladies sat behind the glass (or plastic?), I advised I was there for a 10:30 interview. (It was now 10:25.) They advised me to have a seat and they would let someone know I had arrived. I took a seat on a 3-butt bench and pondered the metal-detector that one had to pass through before being allowed behind the door into the working bowels of the building. (Yep... another locked entry.)

So... as I sat in my fully-appropriate interview attire wondering if I would have to pass through the metal detector, a female who clearly had knowledge of the workings of the magic gates outside walked through the front door of the building. I will simply describe her appearance as "rough." She walked up to the shield, spoke to one of the ladies behind it, and was told to have a seat. Now, there were two chairs available that were 90 degrees to the bench I was on. Yep. She came to join me on the bench. I continued to scan the area to determine if "Correctional Facility decor" was something I should consider. (It is not.) Sure enough... she turns to me and says "Well, they don't get in any hurry here, do they?"

I was raised to be polite. I will say "Bless You" to a perfect stranger if I hear a sneeze. I will say "Thank You" to anyone who even LOOKS like he or she will assist me. I say "Excuse Me" even if I pass in front of someone in the grocery store who is debating which pasta sauce to buy!! My upbringing dictated I acknowledge her comment even though the question was clearly rhetorical.

I glanced in her direction, said "Well, it is a government job", smiled, and looked back out front where my truck awaited. It shouldn't be a problem. It was almost 10:30, the golden hour. Someone would come to the door and ask me into the back any minute now.

I believe the smile is what tagged me as a sucker. She began telling me the story. Hubby had been incarcerated over the weekend and he had the cash on him when he was picked up that she needed to bail him out. She had been to the County Jail where she was told to come to this facility where she was told she would have to get paperwork from the County Jail... ad infinitum. As I pondered silently what Hubby might have done to find himself in jail, she revealed his failure to pay child support (whew!) as the infraction. She also told me all about their house, how they had been working on it, how she had to be at work at 2:00 p.m. that day (I'm only hoping she intended to shower and dress before then!), and (this was the best part) how she was Bi-Polar but had decided to quit taking her medications as they made her feel even worse. Great. For those of you who will get this reference, I will say I felt as though I had been put on the "Group W bench" with Arlo Guthrie. (Those who don't get it will need to watch "Alice's Restaurant" in order to understand.)

The clock continued ticking. It was now 10:40 a.m. and no one had even appeared to be approaching to save me. Nice.

My new "friend" was called up to the shield and told that she would need to go BACK to the County Jail for something. That's when she lost it... sort of. She began ranting to the ladies behind the shield, telling them about her Bi-Polar not-on-meds situation, while I began thinking this was probably not really the environment in which I would thrive. :) At last, she stormed out of the building, through the gates (which apparently work fine in reverse!), and walked toward whatever vehicle had brought her to the building. Whew! Okay.

At 10:45 a.m., I was called to the back. Yes, I had to put my purse on the shelf, walk through the metal detector, and respond to "Are you carrying any tobacco products on you?" Nope. A very nice lady (HR person) greeted me. The first thing I told her was how they really SHOULD place something on the front gate that directed folks on what to do when the gate went "click!" I shared my story while we walked to the back for the introductions and interview. She thought that might be a good idea and wondered why there wasn't something out there already. DUHHHHH!

Alright. I have just changed the title of this post from "Tips for Correctional Facility Interviewing" to "Tips for Correctional Facility Access." It's gone too long already so I'm not going to continue with how the interview went. I'll try to get to that another time. For now, just know that I received a VERY nice letter from the warden (a woman who I immediately liked!) indicating they had filled the position (note to self: not with you!), but I should continue to check their web site for future positions.

And so... I remain unemployed but still seeking. If any of you know anyone who knows anyone who knows anyone (which is apparently how one gains employment here!), please mention my name!!

Until the next post...

A MID-SEPTEMBER SATURDAY

Heidy-Ho, Blogging Pals!! Long time no type. (Mea culpa.)

Let's see. What has been happening here in "Big D?" Hmmmmm.

Well, I was invited to be a guest at the local Supper Club. The "suppers" are held once a month at the Beauregard Country Club (featuring an 18-hole golf course, tennis courts, and pool!). I was pleased to be invited as I would be joining my pals, Faux Auntie Jo and Marty, for the festivities. Faux Auntie Jo was the co-host along with Debbie & Mike. The theme was Western and they certainly looked the part!!

Marty & Faux Auntie Jo were kind enough to model two different denim washes for the occasion!

There was not a prize for the best attire for the theme but if there had been, Angela would definitely have won it hands down!! She mentioned something about having worked in Dallas before with a boss who had a real ranch and that employees were expected to be in proper attire for the occasions held there. Hmmmmmm?

After dinner (and dessert!), Charlie provided some after-dinner entertainment with a joke for the crowd.

It was a good time as I was able to visit with some folks I would not necessarily encounter otherwise. Many of the attendees were parents of some of my high school pals and it was great to see them! I was able to visit with Dr. and Mrs. K at our table. Dr. K was the town veterinarian when I was growing up. He took wonderful care of our two "mutts", Skippy and Spot, over the years. I will always hold him in a place of honor in my heart.

Alrighty. On another note entirely, I have to tell you about something I would not believe had I not witnessed it myself.

The house we are in sits about mid-way on a LOOOOOONG straight street that runs between the road to the airport (yes, the Beauregard Regional Airport to be exact!) and the major East/West highway though town. It is not really heavily trafficked... but early morning and late evening "rush hours" (I am using that term loosely!) do have a good number of vehicles passing by. Try to picture this: Our driveway sits at the convergence of 3 stop signs. The road we are on runs perpendicular to the driveway. There is a second road that dead-ends into our road just very slightly south of our driveway and on the opposite side of our road. Aw heck... look at the pic:


I am stopped at the stop sign on the street that dead-ends at the house. You can see the northbound stop sign to the right of the picture. The southbound stop sign is to the left just out of view. As I sit at my computer, I am looking out a front window that allows me to see folks stop (or NOT stop which is about as frequent) at the stop sign for those headed north on our street. About 45% actually come to a full stop. About 40% tap their brakes to give the appearance they are thinking about (but not) stopping, and about 15% (primarily those under the age of 21 from what I have seen) simply push the accelerator a little harder in order to "blow" the stop sign at a higher rate of speed.

Okay. So the other day, I was sitting at my computer working on something of very little import when I noticed movement outside the window. I looked out and observed a rider on horseback heading north on our street. To my absolute astonishment and extreme amusement, this gentleman pulled back on the reins and brought his steed to a complete stop prior to gigging the horse to start up again. I nearly fell out of my office chair!!! Who would have thunk it?!?!?!? I promise you, if I were you, I would think I were lying!! It happened. Truth is stranger than fiction, my blogging buddies. Honestly.

Well, that's pretty much it for today. I know I still owe you the tale about my interview at the Correctional Facility! I'll save that for another day.

Hope you all are well!! Until next time...

9/11/2009 PLEASE MEET SGT. MAJ. LARRY STRICKLAND

Please meet Sgt. Maj. Larry Strickland. He was 52 years old, born in Washington State, and had a Bachelor of Science degree. He had served our country in a lot of places including Germany, Washington State, Washington DC, Texas, and Virginia. He had many awards and decorations. Most devastating for me to learn was his plan to retire upon completion of 30 years of service... at the end of September 2001. After all of his service, he was close to spending more time on his hobbies (fishing, hiking, gourmet cooking, and needlepoint) and especially looking forward to spending more time with his family. SGM Strickland left behind a wife, Debra, who was the Garrison Command Sergeant Major of Fort Belvoir, VA. at the time, three adult children, and one grandson who will never know his grandfather as he was only a year old when SGM Strickland was taken. His parents also were left to deal with the untimely loss of their child.

SGM Strickland headed out to work that day at the Pentagon as there were some meetings he deemed important enough to attend even though he could have skipped them. He had annual leave built up that needed to be used or lost. He chose to go to work. If you knew nothing more about him than that, you would know the character of the man. It was that character that had him in his office on the second floor when the wing he was in was struck by American Airlines Flight 77.

But this is a tribute to SGM Strickland's life. And I've got to tell you the things said about him and written about him are absolutely glowing!! What a wonderful thing... to have those left behind remember you so well and so lovingly. It's not just family. These were friends, co-workers, people who knew him on a "business" level where, many times, the feelings are not so great. I would suggest you take a few moments today to review three different web sites where there are tributes (and from where I gathered much of the information I am sharing with you). It really won't take that long and, thankfully, most of us did not actually know anyone who was lost that day. Perhaps it would be good to learn about at least one of them. I know it gave me a very new perspective.

Pentagon Memorial Fund - Names of the souls lost at the Pentagon are alphabetical by last name. Scroll down and click on SGM Strickland's name to read about his service career.

Columns - The University of Washington Alumni Magazine- Read a really great article here about SGM Strickland's personal life. Sounds like someone we would all like to have known.

The Washington Post - This project is a database of all of the souls lost that day and has a very nice tribute to SGM Strickland.

Legacy.com - This is where folks can leave notes for the family. Many folks were positively impacted by SGM Strickland. Some commented here about their appreciation of the man.

Thank you, SGM Strickland, for your service, for your honor, and for your character. I'm glad I got to know you.

We should never forget.

LABOR DAY WEEKEND NOT LABORIOUS

Heidy-Ho, Blogging Pals!! Welcome back.

Again, my apologies for delays between posts. Time really can get away quickly, can't it?

So, to update you all... the spousal-unit returned from Texas on Friday the 28th, having celebrated his "half-century" of age while in Texas. Probably wise.

Since then, I have been wrangling with two pieces of my aunt's business. One is the pool service company which I have been talking to monthly since April. No, we are not best friends. I am simply trying to make sense of an archaic billing system and resolve some billing issues. Sigh. The second is the homeowners policy renewal which arrived in the mail with a premium that would make a grown man blush at its size and audacity! I'm still working on that one. I assure you there will be a change of company and agency forthcoming.

Then, this past Friday evening, the in-laws arrived for the holiday weekend. I know many refer to their parents-by-marriage as "outlaws" but that has never been the case in my world. They left today to return to the most obese state (according to my F-I-L) of Mississippi. I thought Louisiana held that honor but perhaps we are actually #49. Who knows? At any rate, it was fun visiting with them. Some of you may recall that my spousal-unit, whom I met in Austin, married in Austin, and lived with in Austin up until this past May when we relocated to Louisiana, was actually BORN in this town!! Yep. Long and interesting story about how that information surfaced but the short of it is it was at a work environment while I was reading the local rag which my father insisted on having sent to me. Heck! Even I wasn't born here!! I was New Orleans-born but selected as the "pick-of-the-litter" as an infant and transported to this town at the tender age of four months. (That's a much more interesting way to tell you I was adopted at 4-months of age.)

At any rate, the M-I-L had been moved here with her family while in high school. The F-I-L had been stationed at Fort Polk. You can put the rest together. They were married August 2, 1958, and produced my spousal-unit exactly one year and 20 days later! They moved to Houston, Texas when the child was about one-year old so he doesn't know anything about this town other than the information I have provided over the years and the visits he has made here up until this past May. His parents, on the other hand, apparently have some pretty fond memories of the place which made it great fun to drive around and listen to their remembrances of what someplace used to be or where something used to be. When we are together, it is typical for me to abscond with my M-I-L for at least a full day of gallivanting. In Austin, we would shop until we nearly dropped. Here in Big D, we went to Wal-Mart for Betty Boop flip-flops then drove around for about 45 minutes to try to discover what had happened to the old parsonage where she lived with her family for a while and what had happened to the apartment she and my F-I-L shared when they were first married. Not much to do here, folks. Really.

Anyway, before I get any "cougar" comments from those of you who can do the math, suffice it to say that there is some real logic in women marrying men 6-7 years younger than themselves. The actuarial tables will prove that men typically die 6-7 years earlier than women. That being the case, I figure marrying a man younger by that period would probably mean a greater likelihood of my widowhood being shorter!!! :) So there. (NOTE: No "cougar" comments will be approved for posting.)

Okay... back to the in-laws. We killed Saturday evening by dining at a local establishment... The Catfish Hut. You are required to toss your Spanish peanut shells on the floor around your table and nearly every single member of the waitstaff is over 35 and will call you "hon." It's a very casual environment, needless to say. But the catfish and shrimp are really good and there is something attractive about not having to clean up after dinner. :) We enjoyed ourselves and were plenty stuffed by the end of our dining stay.

I do have a couple of updates for you all and promise I will get to those postings as soon as I can. Please remember that I will repost my tribute to Sgt. Maj. Larry Strickland to deliver to you for Friday morning reading, 9/11/2009. I would appreciate your reading it again as a reminder that we should never forget. There are 2,995 other souls lost that day and I know I can't know all of them nor do I expect any of us to... but knowing just one and humanizing that one should go a long way to always remembering.

Until next post...