I’m getting some help here. It’s too much work for just one person. I’m Cheryl.”
“Nice to meet you, sugar,” I said politely. “I’m happy to be here.”
“You’re good with numbers?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Each item has a price,” she said, waving her arm at the shelves of snacks and other sundries. “It’s just like working at a store, only no money ever changes hands. You deduct the price of each item from each inmate’s account. That’s the only way anyone gets anything—through their accounts. There might be certain inmates who try to take advantage of you since you’re new. But don’t let them. Just tell them that they can only purchase things using their account. And there’s a limit—two hundred dollars per month per inmate. The system will help keep track of that.”
“I think I understand,” I said, looking at all the items. There were snacks like beef jerky, candy, cookies, and all manner of chips and pretzels and popcorn. The commissary seemed to be running a little short on coffee, which seemed to be a popular thing to buy. There was a whole shelf devoted to Willow’s precious noodle packets, and it made me halfway miss her. I was sure I just missed the promise of her hooch even more.
Besides the food products, there were tubes of toothpaste, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, combs, shampoos, soaps, cups, bowls, plates, stamps, and stationary. Stationary was a pretty idea, but I didn’t think I’d have anyone to write to on the outside. Officers would probably shred anything I tried to write to Johnny French before it even reached his office.
Another shelf had games on it—checkers, chess, dominos, and decks of cards.
“We do inventory about every week, on Friday,” Cheryl said, distracting me from all the things I couldn’t buy. “We figure out what to order, and how much we should order. Besides that, it’s just like running a store. You ask an inmate for her number, enter it in the computer, and deduct the amount of the item from her account. As simple as that.”
“I think I understand,” I said. “It sounds right up my alley.”
At the nightclub, I kept the girls’ money in a safe in my office. As they needed it, I made a notation of how much they were asking for to make sure everyone was getting her fair share. It was a good system, I thought, especially in the beginning, after some girls complained of others stealing their wages. Sure, there had been issues with my system. But I couldn’t think of a better way to do business, particularly since the girls were living and working there.
I helped Cheryl put more items on the shelves, particularly the coffee.
“We all need a little caffeine to help us get through our day,” she said, smiling.
I preferred alcohol to coffee, but I didn’t say anything. With my luck, Cheryl would be in AA, too, a member of the club I wanted nothing to do with.
Inmates started lining up outside of the window, and Cheryl threw open the shutters.
“Open for business,” she announced.
She manned one computer and I watched her enter the items, fetching what she told me to fetch. I was sure that I understood the system, watching her enter the numbers before turning around to retrieve the item.
“Ready to work on the other computer?” she asked. “We’re getting slammed here.”
I glanced out the window to see that it was true. Inmates shifted from foot to foot, the line winding down the hallway.
“I’m ready,” I said, feeling confident.
My first customer was Tama, of all people.
“How much for that ass?” she asked, leaning against the counter.
“Not for sale,” I said coolly. “Name your item or move on.”
“I’ve named my item,” Tama said, her eyes shining in a way I knew all too well. “I’m waiting for you to give it to me.”
“I’m not interested,” I said.
“What about for a little hooch?” she asked slyly. “I heard that loosens you up quite a bit.”
That gave me so much pause that
“Nice to meet you, sugar,” I said politely. “I’m happy to be here.”
“You’re good with numbers?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Each item has a price,” she said, waving her arm at the shelves of snacks and other sundries. “It’s just like working at a store, only no money ever changes hands. You deduct the price of each item from each inmate’s account. That’s the only way anyone gets anything—through their accounts. There might be certain inmates who try to take advantage of you since you’re new. But don’t let them. Just tell them that they can only purchase things using their account. And there’s a limit—two hundred dollars per month per inmate. The system will help keep track of that.”
“I think I understand,” I said, looking at all the items. There were snacks like beef jerky, candy, cookies, and all manner of chips and pretzels and popcorn. The commissary seemed to be running a little short on coffee, which seemed to be a popular thing to buy. There was a whole shelf devoted to Willow’s precious noodle packets, and it made me halfway miss her. I was sure I just missed the promise of her hooch even more.
Besides the food products, there were tubes of toothpaste, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, combs, shampoos, soaps, cups, bowls, plates, stamps, and stationary. Stationary was a pretty idea, but I didn’t think I’d have anyone to write to on the outside. Officers would probably shred anything I tried to write to Johnny French before it even reached his office.
Another shelf had games on it—checkers, chess, dominos, and decks of cards.
“We do inventory about every week, on Friday,” Cheryl said, distracting me from all the things I couldn’t buy. “We figure out what to order, and how much we should order. Besides that, it’s just like running a store. You ask an inmate for her number, enter it in the computer, and deduct the amount of the item from her account. As simple as that.”
“I think I understand,” I said. “It sounds right up my alley.”
At the nightclub, I kept the girls’ money in a safe in my office. As they needed it, I made a notation of how much they were asking for to make sure everyone was getting her fair share. It was a good system, I thought, especially in the beginning, after some girls complained of others stealing their wages. Sure, there had been issues with my system. But I couldn’t think of a better way to do business, particularly since the girls were living and working there.
I helped Cheryl put more items on the shelves, particularly the coffee.
“We all need a little caffeine to help us get through our day,” she said, smiling.
I preferred alcohol to coffee, but I didn’t say anything. With my luck, Cheryl would be in AA, too, a member of the club I wanted nothing to do with.
Inmates started lining up outside of the window, and Cheryl threw open the shutters.
“Open for business,” she announced.
She manned one computer and I watched her enter the items, fetching what she told me to fetch. I was sure that I understood the system, watching her enter the numbers before turning around to retrieve the item.
“Ready to work on the other computer?” she asked. “We’re getting slammed here.”
I glanced out the window to see that it was true. Inmates shifted from foot to foot, the line winding down the hallway.
“I’m ready,” I said, feeling confident.
My first customer was Tama, of all people.
“How much for that ass?” she asked, leaning against the counter.
“Not for sale,” I said coolly. “Name your item or move on.”
“I’ve named my item,” Tama said, her eyes shining in a way I knew all too well. “I’m waiting for you to give it to me.”
“I’m not interested,” I said.
“What about for a little hooch?” she asked slyly. “I heard that loosens you up quite a bit.”
That gave me so much pause that
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