In 2005 Doug and I good naturedly trudged to Memphis to the CIS office to be electronically fingerprinted for our adoption paperwork. Though a government building is never the nicest, our wait there wasn't too terrible overall. That experience now seems like Buckingham Palace compared to my latest fingerprinting debacle. For my volunteer work I again have to be fingerprinted. But this time with the actual icky ink at the county sheriff's department. I headed up there this afternoon thinking it shouldn't be too bad. Mistake #1. It had occurred to me to call first, but I made sure to get there before 5. Mistake #2 not calling. To say the entrance is outdated is an understatement to end all understatements. The dispatcher instructed me to go to the jail. "UM, HUH?" But I, being a good citizen, followed her instructions without questioning, following the homemade carved wooden sign with "Jail" branded into the wood through a door into...a cavernous hallway that looked like I was under a stadium. Uh, this is weird. And when I get to the top of that hallway (yes, it was a big ramp up), what do I see but CRIMINALS RUNNING LOOSE. I'm not joking, there were 2 inmates just chillin' in the hallway, the same hallway with little ole' me. There was a large and impressive looking guard in a safety booth..IN A SAFETY BOOTH. NOT OUT IN THE HALLWAY WITH ME AND THE CRIMINALS. I practically yell to get his attention, and he has the nerve to tell me to take a seat...next to the criminal. Um, no thank you. I stood as my anxiety level reached an all time high. Did I mention that one of the criminals was casually eating a hunk of watermelon? Yeah, he was. So, I'm chillin' and here comes ANOTHER inmate through the dividing door. He just waltzed through like he had all the access in the world. Freak out coming in huge waves. Finally here comes a young, attractive officer. He bellows, "Front Door" and then he disappears to the other side. Um, did you not notice the crazy eyes or the panic, sir? Could you not assist me? Obviously not. Next up, criminal #3 waltzes back through Front Door after casually mentioning to Tank (yes, that's right, the man in the booth is named Tank) he needs through. WHAT KIND OF SECURITY IS THIS?? Poor little ole me is now noticing further down the hallway that more criminals are out and about on janitorial duty. I'm approaching needing a paper bag. I'm not sure how long all this lasted because in my mind it was ETERNITY. It was hot, dirty, and filled with criminals. Not exactly my element. Finally a second female jailer (first one didn't help enough to even get included in this story) addresses me with, "They only do that paperwork from 7-3 everyday; why did they send you up here?" I wait like 20 seconds after she disappears through Front Door, and I haughtily stomp back down the ramp hallway. When I reach the dispatcher, I very bitchily ask if it would be better if I returned tomorrow between 7 and 3.
Second attempt Wednesday morning. Report to come. If I make it out alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment