I have the best clerks. They look like these huge NFL killer linebackers.
Heck, they ARE these huge killers.
Two of them stand on either side of me so I don't get jumped.
If anyone gives me any crap..and I get my share of sincere mofo crap...they are escorted out into the hallway and read the riot act and then escort the mofo back in to rephrase their request.
I had one fella who pissed on his ducat and did not care to test. Fine-ola. Too bad he couldn't get back INTO the yard without his aforementioned pissed upon ducat. He had to spend the day in a cage. I guess nobody else will be pissing on their ducats when what they really want to do is decline to test. Which is fine by me. In fact, they can all decline to test. Cuts down on my personal paperwork.
Then there was some kind of huge fight that had both blood, bodily fluids and excrements(oh shit would be the appropriate response right here.)
You might remember Big Mouth Jones from some months back. I'm not sure what his problem was today but he was in shackeled and naked and covered in shit and blood. Then about two hours later, when I was trotting down main street, between the two main yards back down to my office in thebac of beyond, there was BMJ, being escorted to the SHU in boxers and flipflops.
Could happen to a nicer guy.
Then when I got back to my desk, I had one of those frantic notes from my new boss. She wanted to know if there was any way ON EARTH that I would trade my really primo spot with the inept bitch crybaby.
Well, actually, yeah.
I 'need new black lateral filing black cabinets (the kind where the the doors flip up).
And of course, I'm gonna need voice mail.
And a big round table so I can have the guys over for lunch.
And then sure, I'll move in a heart beat.
Because She IS a crybaby and I'd like to see you rein her in, cowgirl.