Date: March 23, 2007
Topic: Red, Blue & White
Today it rained. As a matter of fact, it was the worst weather day we’ve had since my arrival here. This of course didn’t keep us from work. We returned to the same stretch of highway from the previous day, continuing our way south, as the encroaching roadside alders are endless. Thankfully the day was short (being a Friday) as the wind and rain had us wet and cold within minutes. It was one of those days where you had to keep moving… or freeze! Despite the weather, we still put in an exemplary effort. C.O. Person is happy as a clam. The approach that Crew #2 is taking in their work of late makes his task easier and rather than being left to write negatives about we ‘Reds’ in his log book, he writes only complimentary words. Surely it must reflect well on him too, which only makes him happier. I gather that aside from the best way it is the only way to get him to go to bat for us over things like sad sack lunches and such.
As it turns out, Mr. Wight’s sandwich from our lunch of yesterday must have given him indigestion. In truth, he was appalled at the meagreness of it. A dead battery drew him out to the work site and moreover his attention to our displeasure over lunches, up close and personal. Far better than a stack of inmate complaints ever could’ve accomplished. Upon returning to the compound after fetching us Mr. Wight went ballistic on the kitchen crew. Today’s sandwiches were STUFFED with meat. Hell, there was even lettuce in them too. Okay, they weren’t burgers as we’d prefer but, for now at least, the issue has registered with the keepers of this fine facility. My verbose complaint forms are debatably sitting among countless others in a trash bin somewhere and despite my entertainment in writing them, I suspect the gears that churn in order to have something happen would’ve continued to sit about inanimate and rusting if waiting on action for them. We’ll just have to see exactly how much movement a Senior Blue Shirt’s tirade imparts to the process. If it were reliant upon Wight’s physical girth, the impetus would be formidable but within the bowels of this prison there are those even bigger than he. Perhaps not in mass but in rank. And they are called the ‘White Shirts.’