Working Corrections on Christmas

Always Remember Those Who Serve as Corrections Professionals

By Rollin Cook

I specifically remember pacing the third-floor maximum security tiers of the old Salt Lake County Metro Jail on multiple graveyard shifts from Christmas Eve into Christmas Day. The inmates seemed extra quiet and the mood more somber than usual. My mind would wander a bit after the evening lockdown and lights out. I wondered what my wife and kids were doing at that moment. Were they going to bed after the family Christmas Eve party? Were the boys giving my wife trouble going to bed? Was my wife trying to put together last-minute bikes and toys? Did we remember to fill the stockings? Would I make it home before anyone got up so they wouldn't have to wait for me again?
My heart ached, and I remember a sense of frustration beginning to creep in regarding my work and career choice. How stupid was I? Who chooses to work in a jail or prison? Why am I here? These guys don't care about me, and some would probably like to punch me in the face (two eventually did in years to come) or kill me. My "Sarge" seems OK, but the Watch Commander is a...well, let's say he could care less about us. Thankfully, I had a long-time veteran officer stop up to visit with me and offer me a break. He had been with the office for nearly 25 years, which was longer than I had been alive. He drank coffee from a stained cup and smoked cigarettes by the minute. He was a tough son of a gun who rarely had to raise his voice or go hands-on with any inmate. They just seemed to know better. He greeted me with a gruff, "Merry Christmas, Cookie!" I growled a hello back and began to hand him my keys, radio, and flashlight. He asked me what was up, and I told him I was just frustrated having to work on Christmas Eve and wished I could be with my family right now. He put his arm around my shoulders and said, "You know what, Roland?! You're not alone. But you need to know something. What you do is important to far more people than you realize." I continued to hang my head...He said, "How do you think these guys feel tonight? How do you think their families feel? Few care about them, and even fewer make a career out of takin' care of 'em." I was listening to him, but I was still feeling sorry for myself a bit. He went on, "Your kind of a hero you know...?" I snickered, and he said, "Think of the sacrifice you and your family are making for people they don't even know. Heck, your boys will look back on these days and realize what it took to go to work, keep the community safe, and serve those no one else gave a rat's a** about!" "You're a great kid, Cookie! Stop pouting and go take your break!"
Somehow, those were the words I needed to hear, and they came from someone who had likely worked 15 to 20 Christmas Eves in his career and never had anyone thank him for doing it. Yet, he completely understood the importance of service, sacrifice, and family. I went home several hours later, around 6 am, and was greeted at my door by two wide-eyed boys and a beautiful brown-eyed wife ready to open the treasures under the tree. As I watched the boys GO, I thought how thankful I was for my family, that veteran officer, and a career that allowed me to serve in the most unselfish way.
Thank you Correctional staff for your amazing sacrifice and service to not only your community but also to those you are entrusted to keep!