Recently things have been hectic at work, as I'm sure you've gathered from the posts about my coworkers' mental health. Our chief deputy recently came forward and told the sheriff that "our jail is sick." He laid out everything to the sheriff, and it was ugly.
Our lieutenants have been pulling various employees in to talk with them about problems at work. Luckily I got selected by one of the trustworthy ones, you know the supervisors that you can have a meltdown on and they never tell anyone.
When I was done voicing my observations and concerns my Lt looked sick. I don't know if he was ready to take confession when he started the meeting. Some of the things I told him visibly disturbed him. He asked how supervisors could willingly and purposefully belittle a suicidal officer. He asked why no one came and debriefed the officers that had sat with him until help arrived so he couldn't harm himself. He asked how a sergeant could lie and falsify documents to protect one officer and implicate an other.
I had no answers. I still don't.
I feel better, because I gave my problems up to someone with power. I'm pretty sure that's not what my grandmother meant when she told me to give my problems up to higher power. She was talking about God. Unlike my inmates, I have never found God in my jail. I did however find someone willing to listen.
I don't think the administration's willingness to take action now will affect my decision to leave for another agency as soon as the opportunity arises. Just like the Wizard of Oz, you can never go back once you see what evil stands behind the curtain.
Great reads are something I treasure. Ideally, I like to be thrown right into the story, to experience things first hand. If an author can take me to that ...
5 days ago