Pass the Buck

I worked in a gym once upon a time. Between clients I'd do front desk duties which was mostly answering the phones which... well, we all get bored and since no-one really cared (Back then a gym was not a place to expect professionalism!), we'd take any chance to entertain ourselves. Telemarketers make for a good opportunity to break up the monotony.

We got a 'hold music' option a year or so into my tenure there and that made our games much more fun. We'd get a call from someone selling crap NOONE needs (bulk garbage bags or everlasting lightbulbs) and hear the whole spiel, then tell them "Oh, 5-gallon barrels of toner? You need the.. front office, hold please.." then get the closest person to grab it at their leisure, listen to the pitch, then say "Oh, we have to get that cleared with the docks. Hold please" and cue the music. This is a gym! there is no front office, no docks, and certainly no treasury department but these poor bastards stay on the line sometimes for 30+min. We'd time it, make a competition of it, etc...

I get the feeling the prison plays a similar game on all of us in here. I know I've moaned already about trying to get art supplies. It started over 9 months ago and for an update, I'm happy to inform ALL (both) of my readers that I finally got them and in about the time it takes someone to conceive and then birth a human baby. Huzzah!

I'll walk you through that process, so you get the idea. The approved catalogue is in the recreation department, so I went there and flipped through it, fantasized, then picked out all the stuff I wanted and filled out all the proper forms. I turned them in and was told I had to talk to Commissary (Or shop. That we can visit once a week, in theory). Kind of makes sense: it's spending money and I guess that is kind of their department. So, I talk to commissary guy who treats me kind of like an idiot for not knowing the details of HIS job and he tells me I need to talk to the Associate Warden to get approval. What?!

It may be appropriate to point out here that I'm not ordering a knife-making kit or a "build your own clay head and life-sized dummy" sculpture kit. It's soft pastels: i.e., like chalk, but softer. The point is, nothing that could in any way be construed as a security risk which wouldn't matter anyway because the Recreation department will review anything before AND after I buy it.

So I find the Associate Warden after he gets back from vacation and he gives me the go-ahead. Literally, a verbal "go ahead". Seems a little informal, but I go with it and tell Recreation. It's a new guy in charge of the department now, a few months having passed already. The new Recreation guy tells me hell "process the order" and I don't know what that means, but I suspect it at least means a few more weeks.

Now I’m not immune to despair, but you'd be amazed at how frustration can move you when desire fails. At that point I was seeing it as a challenge, and I can be.. a little stubborn. But so so much, I just wanted some damn pastels! I've wanted these for so long and worked with the cheapest materials to see if I'm any good with them and if I like them... and I am, and I do. I saved money and waited... I wish it was only a few months I had to wait, but I am SO not done.

I'll fast forward a little and gloss over long lockdowns from covid and "year-end stoppages" that go for a quarter of the year and then my order getting lost and having to begin the process from the beginning again, but this time need an approval from the WARDEN. Apparently this is now above the Assistant Warden's pay grade. And really, the warden has nothing better to do with her time? I was watching the news to make sure Biden wasn't TOO busy in anticipation that it was the next step. Maybe the Security and Exchange commissioner needs to be contacted and briefed? What do these commissary workers, Recreation workers, Assistant Warden's, and wardens do when they're not micromanaging a 200$ art supply order?!

A few more steps and months of waiting and I finally got my supplies a few days ago. Over 9 months later.

I am of course reminded of my days in the gym. Thinking now, it's the same qualifications to be a telemarketer as to be a guard. Don't know if that applies. I wonder... is it one of them now messing with me? Someone who got led around from "Treasury" to "Accounts Receiving" departments and they're getting their revenge on me? Maybe just the poetic justice of the Universe at work?

The main difference though is that those telemarketers at least had the option to hang up. I’m stuck with this. I also wish it was only art supplies that they played these games with. I've been waiting 3 years for medical attention on my hands for VERY painful carpal tunnel syndrome. It took them about 2 years to even acknowledge that I wasn't lying about the excruciating pain. Several medical professionals, a few sets of X-rays, a Neurologist, another doctor... it’s a haunting Deja vu.