Every month or so I make my way downtown to the federal building and go through my pockets to empty myself of all possible metal. I take off my fitbit flex, my necklace, and my jacket. I take my license out of my wallet and hide my wallet in my car somewhere. I search for quarters for the meter. I gather the papers I need and walk to the building. Inevitably I forget that I still have my cell phone or something else forbidden on me and walk back to my car, open it and put that inside, then make my way back to the building. I hand my license to the nice officers behind the metal detectors and then wait for them to tell me to step through. I always set them off. It's always my bra and/or my pants that sets it off. I never have avoided the individual wand and sometimes the pat down. It's okay. I stand with my arms out wide. I know this drill. At least I don't have anything on me that I have to put back in my car. Some people do. For those that take the bus down to the building, they are really out of luck, they won't hold your phone or wallet or anything else for you and you can't bring it in. No purse either. No backpack. No pen. Just your papers, just your i.d. Don't forget your i.d. or you will not be allowed in. There are rules.
I get past security and I walk up the pretty winding staircase to the second floor. I wish I had my fitbit flex on, at least then I could count all these steps for my day. Oh well. Doesn't really matter, does it. I think about it every time, though. It is the quietest building every time I walk it. Nobody is ever in the halls of the federal building. At least not on the second floor. I know my way. Walk partly down the hall, turn left. Walk that hall to the end. Turn left. Walk to the end. The door on the left says "come on in." I do. It's a small waiting room with a window and the same secretary behind the plexiglass every time. I usually have no appointment. My P.O. usually is not in. Turns out he is out of the office all this week. Not surprised.
I sometimes wonder if I am an easy or a difficult person on supervision. I know that I am not someone who they need to worry about doing drugs, alcohol or crimes. I mean, those have to be the most difficult. But, I am not low maintenance. I keep needing to request trips out of the state and leaving the jurisdiction is not forbidden, but it is not encouraged. I can't imagine that too many people travel as much as I have during my first 9 months of supervision. I hope it doesn't discourage them from seeking my early release from supervision. I did bring with me my letter of admission for my PhD program with the funding decisions so that is a good thing to counteract all the requests. Hopefully, that will go in the "good" file. Ha.
So, as I am in the office filling out the mounds of paperwork, a guy comes out from the office of another P.O. and sits in the waiting room. He looks at me and says,"where do I know you from?" I don't recognize him, but that means nothing. He could have a kid in my program where I work. He could work somewhere I shop. Who knows? I say, "I don't know." He then asks me if I am filling out an application to work there... He immediately assumes that I am not a fellow felon. "You applying for a job?" He asks me.
I want to say something about the fact that I am hardly dressed for applying for a professional job, but I just look at him and I say, "no, I am a felon and I am filling out my paperwork..." He looks at me funny and says, "you got in trouble?!?!" He just can't believe it. The way he emphasized the "YOU" was like it was not possible. I said, "I am just like you, nothing different..." I went back to my paperwork. He smirked and got up to do his urine sample in the bathroom. He probably has to do them far more frequently than me. I've done only two since I've been out. Most people in supervision do them at least monthly - some weekly. Most have a history of drugs and alcohol, though. Only thing they will find in my urine test is a combination of the ten prescription medications I take on a daily/weekly basis for my chronic health issues. Not very exciting and nothing that they test for.
The guy came out of the restroom and looked over at me and told me to have a good rest of the day. I told him the same. He smiled at me. I think I demolished his stereotype of a felon for a moment today. Funny that even other felons have the same stereotypes of what we look and act like. We come in all shapes, sizes, genders, ages, looks, races, etc. We are your neighbors, friends, teachers, bus drivers, cleaners, hair dressers, realtors, bankers, attorneys, doctors, jewelers, cashiers, photographers, artists, accountants, taxi drivers, homeless, parents, children, grandparents, bosses, etc. Break your stereotypes of what a felon looks and acts like. Some people are career criminals, most are not. Some people move beyond.
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