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A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: mumble
Yes, this is another reminiscence of my time working at a county jail. I got a million of ‘em, hot-cha-cha-cha-cha . . .
Anyway. This happened back when I was a sergeant.
One of the truisms of working at a jail is that you will have one fight or similar violent incident a shift, on average. We hadn’t had any fights yet that night, so we were all getting a bit antsy. You know, come on, get it over with before midnight so we can get the reports done before shift change.
So when the call “Fight in India Dorm!” came over our radios, it came as a bit of a relief.
Leaving two deputies in each of the other buildings to keep an eye on the rest of the population, the rest of us stampede to Building 2, Dorm I. The dorm at that time housed protective custody inmates, and sometimes one will no longer be able to stand the sight of his cellmate, and suddenly it’s on.
The two inmates, one a gray tabby and the other a rabbit, were grappling, and they stopped fighting and separated the minute the cell door opened. There’s a simple explanation why they do that, and it has to do with us: when we show up, we’re likely to be using pepper spray, and if not the odds are never even. Maybe two inmates, and about three times that many deputies.
Okay, first order of business, get them separated. Mainly to avoid another fight, and partly to find out just what the hell happened to start the fracas in the first place. So the gray tabby got pawcuffed behind his back and moved to the building’s common area. There he was put in a seat and told to stay where he was while the rabbit, similarly pawcuffed, was escorted out of the building to an interview room.
Not having to use force is a bonus for us. Fewer reports, yay!
The reason I ordered the rabbit moved to the interview room, and not the cat? Simple random chance; the bunny was the first one I pointed at. Two deputies, a badger and a canine, grabbed him by the upper arms and escorted him.
I asked the tabby what was going on, and it was fairly predictable. “He hit me!”
“Any idea why?” I asked, and got a shrug for it. Fine, be that way about it.
“Do you want to press charges?” Another important question. Under ordinary circumstances, an inmate won’t file charges on another inmate. It does happen, but if our in-house detective can’t determine who did what, he’ll charge both of them with affray.
He doesn’t want to press charges (yay!) so I tell another deputy to take him to be seen by the nurse, and go off to talk to the rabbit.
I get there at the same time Lieutenant C_____ does, and now the story really starts.
Lieutenant C_____ was my supervisor at the time. He was a tall, rangy-looking hound who liked to have a smoke or three. In fact, that’s why he was late to the party; he was outside the secure perimeter having a smoke. For the record, he didn’t like me much, because I wasn’t one of the many little in-groups (in this case, the hunting/fishing/shooting group).
So I get to the interview room at the same time Lieutenant C_____ does, and I give him the Reader’s Digest version of what happened. He nods and goes in, and starts asking the rabbit questions.
The rabbit’s not saying anything.
The badger and the dog look at each other while the Lieutenant keeps asking questions and the inmate keeps not answering. The hound starts to get irritated, and this brings up an important point about Lt. C_____.
He had this really deep voice, and rarely raised the volume or shouted. But when he got angry, his voice would get lower. Really hard to understand what he was saying half the time, and damned near impossible to understand him when there’s a lot of noise in the background.
So his voice is getting lower, and lower, and turns into an almost inaudible rumble to my ears, and his body language starts screaming “I’m going to hit this rabbit” even though he’s still pawcuffed (definitely NOT a good idea) and the two deputies are looking at me.
Okay.
“Lieutenant.”
He gives me this look of balked fury. “What?!”
I keep my tone level.
“He’s deaf, Sir.”
It got so quiet in that little room you could have heard a moth fart.
“What!?”
I point at the inmate’s armband. “He’s deaf, Sir.” They’re color-coded.
The quiet became a pregnant pause, and it had a litter of kittens.
Lt. C_____’s jaw worked for a moment, before he left the room.
I have rarely spoken of this incident, but when I do, I usually chuckle as I relate it.
End.
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: mumble
Yes, this is another reminiscence of my time working at a county jail. I got a million of ‘em, hot-cha-cha-cha-cha . . .
Anyway. This happened back when I was a sergeant.
One of the truisms of working at a jail is that you will have one fight or similar violent incident a shift, on average. We hadn’t had any fights yet that night, so we were all getting a bit antsy. You know, come on, get it over with before midnight so we can get the reports done before shift change.
So when the call “Fight in India Dorm!” came over our radios, it came as a bit of a relief.
Leaving two deputies in each of the other buildings to keep an eye on the rest of the population, the rest of us stampede to Building 2, Dorm I. The dorm at that time housed protective custody inmates, and sometimes one will no longer be able to stand the sight of his cellmate, and suddenly it’s on.
The two inmates, one a gray tabby and the other a rabbit, were grappling, and they stopped fighting and separated the minute the cell door opened. There’s a simple explanation why they do that, and it has to do with us: when we show up, we’re likely to be using pepper spray, and if not the odds are never even. Maybe two inmates, and about three times that many deputies.
Okay, first order of business, get them separated. Mainly to avoid another fight, and partly to find out just what the hell happened to start the fracas in the first place. So the gray tabby got pawcuffed behind his back and moved to the building’s common area. There he was put in a seat and told to stay where he was while the rabbit, similarly pawcuffed, was escorted out of the building to an interview room.
Not having to use force is a bonus for us. Fewer reports, yay!
The reason I ordered the rabbit moved to the interview room, and not the cat? Simple random chance; the bunny was the first one I pointed at. Two deputies, a badger and a canine, grabbed him by the upper arms and escorted him.
I asked the tabby what was going on, and it was fairly predictable. “He hit me!”
“Any idea why?” I asked, and got a shrug for it. Fine, be that way about it.
“Do you want to press charges?” Another important question. Under ordinary circumstances, an inmate won’t file charges on another inmate. It does happen, but if our in-house detective can’t determine who did what, he’ll charge both of them with affray.
He doesn’t want to press charges (yay!) so I tell another deputy to take him to be seen by the nurse, and go off to talk to the rabbit.
I get there at the same time Lieutenant C_____ does, and now the story really starts.
Lieutenant C_____ was my supervisor at the time. He was a tall, rangy-looking hound who liked to have a smoke or three. In fact, that’s why he was late to the party; he was outside the secure perimeter having a smoke. For the record, he didn’t like me much, because I wasn’t one of the many little in-groups (in this case, the hunting/fishing/shooting group).
So I get to the interview room at the same time Lieutenant C_____ does, and I give him the Reader’s Digest version of what happened. He nods and goes in, and starts asking the rabbit questions.
The rabbit’s not saying anything.
The badger and the dog look at each other while the Lieutenant keeps asking questions and the inmate keeps not answering. The hound starts to get irritated, and this brings up an important point about Lt. C_____.
He had this really deep voice, and rarely raised the volume or shouted. But when he got angry, his voice would get lower. Really hard to understand what he was saying half the time, and damned near impossible to understand him when there’s a lot of noise in the background.
So his voice is getting lower, and lower, and turns into an almost inaudible rumble to my ears, and his body language starts screaming “I’m going to hit this rabbit” even though he’s still pawcuffed (definitely NOT a good idea) and the two deputies are looking at me.
Okay.
“Lieutenant.”
He gives me this look of balked fury. “What?!”
I keep my tone level.
“He’s deaf, Sir.”
It got so quiet in that little room you could have heard a moth fart.
“What!?”
I point at the inmate’s armband. “He’s deaf, Sir.” They’re color-coded.
The quiet became a pregnant pause, and it had a litter of kittens.
Lt. C_____’s jaw worked for a moment, before he left the room.
I have rarely spoken of this incident, but when I do, I usually chuckle as I relate it.
End.
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species German Shepherd
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 37.3 kB
Listed in Folders
Heh, seen the same.
I worked airborne communications while I was in the Air Force. Back in '77 you got the full shop training as well as basic aircraft maintenance (basic because you'd be trained on your birds when you got to your station.) Four years and six months and I got out to try the civilian side of things. Okay, but not as much fun as T-38s or B-52s, so I signed up for another four. Seems they now tested and trained their techs in either flight-line or shop work, not both. As I had been out three and a half years they assumed I'd forgotten too much of the shop so I got to play on the flight-line in '85.
But I hadn't forgotten, or not much, and it pissed the shop boss (E7) off that this 'new' flight-line E5 could shop troubleshoot better than his people could.
Then we get to the control head of doom. Two seater aircraft (like the RF-4C) have two control heads, one in each cockpit. You flip a switch which flips a relay and whichever control head as a ground on one pin now has control of the radio. Except this one control head. You could put it in any aircraft and so long as the other control head was removed/disconnected it would work, but plug in the other one and this one was dead. We'd send it to the shop, they'd 'test' it and claimed that it worked and send it back out. We got to the point we knew it by SN, see it and send it back because we knew it wouldn't work.
I finally had enough and carried it to the shop myself. And then I explained to the E7 and his kids why they never had a problem with it on the bench - their mock-up could only test single control heads - no way to hook up two and this thing worked fine if you disconnected the other head. I even offered to make them a dual head tester - just needed three connectors, a switch and a bit of wire.
What I was offered instead by the E7 was an Article 15, a little nasty-gram to be applied to my permanent records. I told him find, if he could get that head - which his kids didn't know they didn't know how to properly test - to work in any of our F-4s I'd sign the damn thing. (And then I walked out before I started saying what I really felt like saying ...)
I understood later that him and a couple of his kids did go out with some crew chiefs and they tried a dozen birds before they finally gave up. (I heard from a friend that one of the crew chiefs had checked the SN and told his co-worker 'loudly' "They're trying to use that dud again!" which did bad things to the E7's blood pressure.)
After that, if I walked into the shop with parts that E7 would say not a word, he'd just go into his little office and close the door. (and the kids would actually listen when I explained a problem - funny that. )
I worked airborne communications while I was in the Air Force. Back in '77 you got the full shop training as well as basic aircraft maintenance (basic because you'd be trained on your birds when you got to your station.) Four years and six months and I got out to try the civilian side of things. Okay, but not as much fun as T-38s or B-52s, so I signed up for another four. Seems they now tested and trained their techs in either flight-line or shop work, not both. As I had been out three and a half years they assumed I'd forgotten too much of the shop so I got to play on the flight-line in '85.
But I hadn't forgotten, or not much, and it pissed the shop boss (E7) off that this 'new' flight-line E5 could shop troubleshoot better than his people could.
Then we get to the control head of doom. Two seater aircraft (like the RF-4C) have two control heads, one in each cockpit. You flip a switch which flips a relay and whichever control head as a ground on one pin now has control of the radio. Except this one control head. You could put it in any aircraft and so long as the other control head was removed/disconnected it would work, but plug in the other one and this one was dead. We'd send it to the shop, they'd 'test' it and claimed that it worked and send it back out. We got to the point we knew it by SN, see it and send it back because we knew it wouldn't work.
I finally had enough and carried it to the shop myself. And then I explained to the E7 and his kids why they never had a problem with it on the bench - their mock-up could only test single control heads - no way to hook up two and this thing worked fine if you disconnected the other head. I even offered to make them a dual head tester - just needed three connectors, a switch and a bit of wire.
What I was offered instead by the E7 was an Article 15, a little nasty-gram to be applied to my permanent records. I told him find, if he could get that head - which his kids didn't know they didn't know how to properly test - to work in any of our F-4s I'd sign the damn thing. (And then I walked out before I started saying what I really felt like saying ...)
I understood later that him and a couple of his kids did go out with some crew chiefs and they tried a dozen birds before they finally gave up. (I heard from a friend that one of the crew chiefs had checked the SN and told his co-worker 'loudly' "They're trying to use that dud again!" which did bad things to the E7's blood pressure.)
After that, if I walked into the shop with parts that E7 would say not a word, he'd just go into his little office and close the door. (and the kids would actually listen when I explained a problem - funny that. )
Wasn't the first time I'd pointed out (and then proven) that I knew things he and they didn't know about their own gear/tools.
What was working against him was that the radio (ARC-164) was 'new' to the Air Force back in '76 - 77. It was the first all solid-state UHF radio and I had gotten in on the ground floor if you will as one of the first to see it in tech school. Then the Air Force doesn't just push a new system out without a little testing first, so when I reached my first station (Randolph AFB) the were fitting them into T-37s and T-38s and letting student pilots try to break them and our shop got to rewrite the TOs (Technical Orders) to better reflect the proper care and feeding of these new toys. Also didn't hurt that we had an E6 that had been sent to the factory for his training (guy could listen to the tones in the headset and tell you which systems weren't playing nice.)
The T-37s and T-38s were rewired for their new toys, but for most aircraft retrofit kits were simply plugged in (and some of the radio 'adapters' weighted an extra 20-30 pounds to keep the aircraft's CG where it should be.) My second station was Osan with - wait for it - F-4Es, RF-4Cs and OV-10s - all using dual heads and the shop had made their own dual headed rig ...
I've always liked to learn new things, tell me there's a new trick and show me how it's done, or challenge me with an interesting problem. But if you make a claim prepare to back it up because "that's just the way it works" just doesn't cut it with me, you have to 'show' not just claim. Which that E7 had run into a few times already. I could see his side of it - but he was one of those that feels threatened when told he's got something wrong.
Alpha male types - what ya gonna do? (Other than lock them in a cage with a couple of half bricks, place your bets and watch the fur (blood/teeth) fly.)
What was working against him was that the radio (ARC-164) was 'new' to the Air Force back in '76 - 77. It was the first all solid-state UHF radio and I had gotten in on the ground floor if you will as one of the first to see it in tech school. Then the Air Force doesn't just push a new system out without a little testing first, so when I reached my first station (Randolph AFB) the were fitting them into T-37s and T-38s and letting student pilots try to break them and our shop got to rewrite the TOs (Technical Orders) to better reflect the proper care and feeding of these new toys. Also didn't hurt that we had an E6 that had been sent to the factory for his training (guy could listen to the tones in the headset and tell you which systems weren't playing nice.)
The T-37s and T-38s were rewired for their new toys, but for most aircraft retrofit kits were simply plugged in (and some of the radio 'adapters' weighted an extra 20-30 pounds to keep the aircraft's CG where it should be.) My second station was Osan with - wait for it - F-4Es, RF-4Cs and OV-10s - all using dual heads and the shop had made their own dual headed rig ...
I've always liked to learn new things, tell me there's a new trick and show me how it's done, or challenge me with an interesting problem. But if you make a claim prepare to back it up because "that's just the way it works" just doesn't cut it with me, you have to 'show' not just claim. Which that E7 had run into a few times already. I could see his side of it - but he was one of those that feels threatened when told he's got something wrong.
Alpha male types - what ya gonna do? (Other than lock them in a cage with a couple of half bricks, place your bets and watch the fur (blood/teeth) fly.)
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