Every time I was dispatched there on phone repair, the real world seemed to stand still, until I drove back out the security gates into the sun again. Or moon. Sometimes I would be dispatched in the middle of the night. And why not. I was their ‘Dedicated Tech’ for years. A new concept thought up by some zipperhead who never took a case of trouble in his life…My first visit was almost my last job as a phone company employee. I’m past the three stages of security, standing outside the giant ‘Fish Tanks’ of women awaiting bail or processing. I have to replace a pay phone, and, repair a couple of handsets on two others. I stand behind a big linebacker sized female jailer. I’m not a very popular fellow. The deputy has to move all the women from the one holding tank, into the adjoining tank. After the last customer is jammed into the mass of pissed of women, I enter the now empty tank…The war of words began…”Hey, hurry it up pencil dick!” “You got a nice ass honey, too bad its on your shoulders!” “Figures they send a faggot!” “Bail me out honey, momma spank you real good!” “Lets see what ya got lover, I gots my glasses on!”…On and on it went. Naturally, the stinking pay phones armored door is jammed. I have to drill the bastard. It takes about thirty minutes, in the best of circumstances. More and more women are being jammed into the remaining holding tank. The abuse I took escalated into verbiage best not repeated. I finally get the door off. I have to pull the coin receptacle box to un bolt the phone back. Change floods out of the coin chute like a waterfall from a jammed return. Some of the coins roll towards the inhabitants of the long cell behind me. I tell the gals who grabbed the money to cough it up. Thus started the riot. Ok, so maybe I said a few other things besides that…I end up in front of the head of Administration…Twenty five years of stories began from that meeting…
