I Choose Door #3, Pat

I know ya'll love a good story, even more so, a good "Kristin you idiot!" story. Hey, I love them too, I can laugh at myself, most days. I'm here to please and I'm sure this one won't disappoint.

Our kids are referred to our program by their juvenile court judge. Just so you know, no, the judges know very little about these kids and make decisions about treatment based on statements from court personnel and defense attorneys. Sometimes a placement with us isn't appropriate and the youth is exited from the program to which they must be sent back to the detention center. Here's where the fun begins.

I got the pleasure of transporting a female youth back to the detention center last week. This isn't in the normal scope of my duties, but we were short staffed, our transportation officer was out. As ya'll know, I'm a social worker by trade, not law enforcement. I was shocked to see this sweet faced 14 year old girl in leg shackles, belly chains and hand cuffs. When I got back from the detention center I found out why there were extra security precautions. The girl was nuts. I don't mean in the "oh, silly kids" nuts, I mean "she's cracked in the head" nuts. Oh, and she likes to run.

My only directives from my supervisor were, take her to the detention center, drop her off at intake, get our chains back and call me when you get there. Ok, no problem, I'm of decent intellect and can manage such a task. I knew where I was going, how hard could this be?

We boarded the youth, without incident, and drove to the detention center without one u-turn. So far, so good. I pulled up the sally port, pushed the intercom button and told the officer why I was there and that I had a transport for processing. I was buzzed through the gate and entered the sallyport only to find out that I was in the kitchen sallyport. I looked around to find milk crates, boxes of fruit and vegetables and a nice man unloading a Ben Keith truck looking at me very perplexed. So what did I do? I backed up (all the while announcing my departure with that horrendously loud back up buzzer and in a cavern at that) and pulled out back into the parking lot.

Around I went, to the next sallyport. I pushed the intercom, told the officer who I was with and that I had a transport. I was buzzed through and I went in, only to find I was in the laundry sallyport! A couple of guys in a uniform company truck look at me, I smile and wave and back up, again with the loud buzzing. About this time, I hear a muffled laugh from the back of the van. Great. It's the grand freaking tour of the detention center with a cracked kid, and she's laughing. At me.

We're off to find the wizard and sallyport #3. Third times the charm, right? Same schpeel, different intercom, correct sallyport this time. Yay! I now know where intake is, that's progress, right there! So I get her in, again without incident and ask the intake officer where I can use a phone. He points me to control. I call my supervisor and let him know from now on tell anyone new WHICH sallyport they need to use. Social worker types will assume one unless told otherwise, we're not law enforcement, ya know. The next morning it was brought up at the staff briefing that in the future, everyone needs to use the third sallyport. Thanks, nothing like a good dose of humilation to start off the day.

Back in detention, once I hung up with my supervisor I see one of the guys in control wave me over. They're laughing and joking around, I figured I'd go introduce myself. One of them asks me if I'm Kristin. "Uh, yeah." I say. "We thought so." another retorts. They inform me one of my ex co-workers works part time with them in control and he'd heard that I got hired on and to be on the look out for me and make sure to give me a hard time. They were the ones that buzzed me through to each sallyport, all the while, watching me on camera, laughing and letting me wander around when they could have told me it's around the building door #3. The third one said, "L, told us you were a prissy white chick with big hair. We knew it had to be you." My hair proceeds me, evidentially. I need a historical placard for my head, it seems. I whipped out a rubber band from my pocket and shot the tall one in the middle in the chest. He jumped and yelled, ouch. I ran like hell and told them, revenge is sweet, nice to meet them and watch the crazy girl I brought in. I love my new job.