Send me an angel

[send mee  an eyn-juh l]: The group released a new version in 1989 as “Send Me An Angel ’89.” This time, it hit #26 in the US.

The House That God Has Forgotten Part 49: Exhaustion is a friend of mine.

I am so tired. I have no idea why, but I am exhausted. Promenade in the morning, security checks for 4 hours and for some reason I feel dead. It is not even 20.00 and I feel like I could crawl into bed and fall asleep.

Maybe it is The House That God Has Forgotten? Everyone looks tired. The candle burning on both ends… until someday there is nothing left but wax. Wax left there and no one left to build a new candle again.

I think even the bright eyed former summer workers look a bit tired.

What are we all tired of? The inmates and their usual drama? Are we tired of doing the same old thing everyday? Or are we just tired in general?

I heard the other day from a colleague that someone I work with is quitting, but they will not say who… So of course our ears are burning. Another already had an interview somewhere else. Another went to one on Wednesday.

Things always happen in threes at The House That God Has Forgotten. Never forget that. At least threes. It spreads like wildfire from one floor to another.

“We do not have a problem with people leaving, but we have a problem with people leaving…”

We do not count the people that have taken leave to work at other government agencies (which they almost never come back from). They do not count as leaving, or people getting put in new positions…but they all leave. They all move on to bigger and better things, and we just get to be tired.

I watch as people change floors. I sat there in the car on the way home and actually debated with myself if someone moved floors. I was not sure, but I do not see them on their “old” floor. It is too hard to keep up with anymore. I just can’t do it.

I cannot run another elevator up and down (it seems to happen more and more), I cannot take money from people that want to leave it to inmates (or underwear and socks and sweatpants).

“You need to take the string out of the waist band, otherwise they will not get it up to the floor”

“That looks like our uniforms. Sorry he will not be getting that”

Taking cash that has been God knows where and writing papers. “Here is your copy.”

Checking in lawyers and confused family members that go in and out of the metal detectors.

On the other side where you come in…checking phones. Looking as you feeling proud because you made it through the detector the first time.

Or watching you go in and out until you forget you left your name tag on again.

This floor. That floor. Up and down up and down.

The I watch you…look exhausted as you run up and down opening cell doors for promenade. Organising cigarettes on little white carts so they can pick them up with ease on the elevator.

I got a comment from someone when I was sending up a gang from gemensamt promenade. I pointed out something. A man had a coffee cup.

“He is not allowed to go up with that.” I say in a neutral tone.

“Well he can leave it here.” she replies with an obnoxious tone in her voice.

Bitch. I think to myself.

Maybe she is just tired too?

I never see anyone smile anymore. No one laughs anymore. We are all a bunch of zombies going to work and absolutely hating each other and what we do.

I would love to tell you that the mood is happy at The House That God Has Forgotten, but honestly I don’t see it, I do not feel it. It feels like everyone is waiting for the next shoe too drop.

Maybe a new rule to save money, or more people leaving, or maybe just not being tired.

They can say any idiot can do this job. They go around in a bus and try to recruit people off the street.

And when the big debate over who is going to take over for these people that you loved, that filled a big hole, it is going to be someone off the street. From that bus.

One of my colleagues pointed out that they hired a 63 year old man that had been out of work for 20 years. Take away 2 years for education and you have a worker for one year. What a bonus!

Plus it only makes you wonder why he did not have a job for the past 20 years.

This bus makes me laugh…whatever happened to that bus anyways? I never hear about it anymore…did it disappear? If you happen to know where this Department of corrections bus isn ow, please let me know. I am curious.

I never got to see the bus, but I am sure it cost a butt load pf money. It is like we are the ugly girl on the internet, looking, begging for a date.

The thing is that sure they think everyone can do this job, but everyone cannot do this job.

You never know what is going to happen when you work that day. (Ask the people that worked 3 October 2011)

We are all tired. We are all coming home and falling on our couches and falling asleep to Netflix and wondering where our free time went. We are all using our days off to clean and wash uniforms and do stuff that “needs to be done”.

My wife is tired tonight too, but like me she stares at a computer screen. Her computer screen looks different than mine all filled with strange letters and stuff, but she gets paid almost double for doing it.

She made a joke last time we got paid.

“What I pay in taxes is what you get for your pay check” (which was true) she said “It is like I pay your salary ha ha ha”

So they wrote in the last protocol of another meeting that I cannot keep up with. (There are so many our bosses go to) where it says that they are lifting the issue of people that have worked longer getting paid more.

A colleague of mine said: “Well…that is progress. Before they would say it would take so long for the focus to be on us…that it would even out over time blah blah”

I guess it is progression, but I am too tired to wonder about it today. I am instead trying to keep my own head above the water and survive through tomorrow. Then I can wake up and say to myself “This is the last morning of the week I need to get up early to go to The House That God Has Forgotten.”

Music tips: Najwa “El utimo primate” it is in Spanish, but incredibly fantastic to write to.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s