Typical Day
Waking up to a 6:00AM alarm suits Jake Wright just fine. Why? Well, it's better than a 3:00AM phone call about an escaped prisoner...or any other problem for that matter. Jake enjoys being a correctional institution administrator, but the 3:00AM phone calls he can do without. That goes double for his wife.
Jake eases out of bed, grabs the dress shirt and slacks he laid out the night before (when your phone can ring at any time, it pays to plan ahead), and mentally reminds himself to grab his jacket and tie later. Since his promotion, Jake hasn't quite gotten used to wearing regular clothes instead of a uniform to work. But don't think for a minute he misses his old uniform. He doesn't. At all.
After a quick shower, Jake gets dressed and runs through his mental to-do list. Planning ahead is one of his best skills. As a CIA, Jake must stay on top of all the state and federal regulations that are part of running a correctional facility. It's unbelievable how many rules there are. He sometimes pranks the new people by telling them to go find the training sheet called, "How to Breathe in a State Correctional Facility." Honestly, it wouldn't surprise him to find out there is one.
His wife is now up. "G'morning." Yaaaaaaaawwn. "Do you want breakfast?"
"No thanks. I'm going to get something at work. Days like this, it's nice to have that option."
"Why? What's going on?"
Grinning, he says, "Relax. Mid-year budget review is past due. Now that I'm the 'chief chief,' I get to play catch-up." Jake kisses his wife's bedhead and starts for the door. "Oh, and listen—I know it's summer break, but don't let the kids sleep too late. I like for them to stay on a schedule, okay?"
"Yes, sir," she says, giving him a mock salute and an eye roll.
As Jake drives the forty minutes to reach the prison (remotely located for security purposes), he thinks about how much he's learned since starting his first job as a guard. A couple of years after high school he still had muscles he'd developed playing O-line on the football team. All that football strategizing—and a pair of intimidating biceps—helped him get a job supervising juveniles at a detention home.
With lots of on-the-job training, Jake discovered a talent for calming upset residents and for following the numerous protocols the job requires. Sixteen years and a college degree later, here he is—running an entire facility.
At five minutes out, Jake calls the guard house (thank you, Bluetooth) to say he's almost there. This is a new security measure that Jake enacted as the CIA. It was just in case a former prisoner or a prisoner's family members decide to target him. If something happens and he doesn't make it to the gate soon after his phone call, local law enforcement gets a call for help.
By the time Jake rolls up, the gate is opening. He holds up his badge for the guards and the cameras as he eases through the gate. He watches in his rear view mirror as the gate automatically slides back into the lock.
After swiping his badge to enter, he stops at a second security checkpoint. Standard operating procedure. No one, not even the big cheese, gets in or out without a full check.
Buzzed through the final lock and down the hall to the admin suite, Jake is disappointed (but not the least bit surprised) to find a huge stack of budget files on his desk. He hangs up his jacket and decides that he can't possibly start doing paperwork until he gets some breakfast.
Jake is just about to call the cafeteria when his administrative assistant, Ben, strolls in carrying a tray of food. "Good morning. Thought you might like some breakfast."
Typical Ben. The man is some kind of Google-human hybrid who knows what you need before you do. Jake accepts the food, thanks Ben profusely, and gets settled at his desk.
It would be awesome if breakfast was Belgian waffles on a bed of crispy bacon, but instead it's the usual: a sausage and egg biscuit, a fruit cup, and something resembling coffee. Oh well, at least it's hot. Way better than a granola bar and a few swigs of Red Bull. Jake wolfs down his breakfast and gets to work.
After reviewing the budget and making a few notes to the state office, Jake takes a moment to prioritize the many things he needs to get done. He decides to leave the maintenance schedule for a day or two and focus on getting new training for the prison staff. This is just another one of the many, many annual requirements. Jake knows the training videos they have now probably came from the Reconstruction era and he desperately wants to find something current.
Another thing Jake really wants to tackle are the inmate rehab programs. While working on his criminal justice degree, he wrote a research paper about an inmate program where younger prisoners acted as caregivers for older inmates at a prison hospital. It had a remarkably positive impact on them (major case of the feels) and Jake wants to design something similar for his facility.
He decides on a program where qualified inmates teach others to read. Both the teaching and learning inmates will accomplish something, improving their self-image. Having worked with inmates for so long, Jake knows how much self-image matters—poor self-image is often a contributing factor to why people commit crimes. He wants to help the inmates in his prison, and building their self-esteem is a good place to start.
Jake gets so caught up in designing this new program that he works right through lunch. Fortunately, Ben is there to help. Good ol' Ben brings Jake some soup and a sandwich. Jake eats with one hand and writes with the other.
His groove is finally thrown off around 3:00PM, when he has to review an inmate's parole possibility. Jake pushes all his other work—finishing the budget review, designing the care program, and trying to find a new set of training videos—so that he can focus 100% on this task. Ultimately, he became a CIA because he wanted to help rehabilitate people.
He meets with the inmate, Steve, to discuss parole and life after prison. Jake tries to be sensitive to the fact that this is probably a really stressful meeting for Steve. Jake makes a point to look him in the eye and mind his P's and Q's.
It's Jake's lucky day. Steve has been on his best behavior for years, and Jake thinks he's ready for parole. It's a good feeling, knowing that someone's ready for their second chance on the outside. Jake sincerely hopes that it will go well.
By the end of the day, Jake has managed to finish the budget review and order a new set of training videos that do not include words like "hark" and "thither." And Jake's proposal for the new inmate rehab program? It should be ready for the state review board by the end of the week.
Time to get home and play with the kids. Unfortunately, their new favorite game is cops and robbers. Jake hopes it's just a phase.