Down in Front

She sat in the back of the classroom doodling on her hand out and keeping an eye on the clock. Her books were already stashed in her pack, her laptop in it's case, and her keys at the ready in her front pocket. She would be the first one out of there, and she was anxious for the day to be over. Most of all, she hoped none of the slower participants would raise their hands with redundant questions. But of course the inevitable happened just as the ICS expert wound up his talk.

"So if there isn't any questions on the importance of the procedures I covered today, I'll let you go a little early."

She grabbed up her items half rising when the lady in the new badly fitting officers uniform at the front table shot up her hand. With a groan and an eye roll the impatient one lowered herself back into her chair.

"I understand what you said about the importance of a through pat down and all, but I work in a men's prison. I'm not touching junk for eight hours a day."

"You knew when you took the job it was a men's prison?"

"Welll...yes. But sometimes at movement I have to do pat downs and there is no way I'm going to be touching that much junk."

"How would you feel if you didn't touch their junk, and that is the day one of them comes through with a shank he hide in his crotch and he stabs your co-worker with it."

"They couldn't hide a knife there."

"Sure they will. Have you looked at the confiscated weapons on the back table. Especially if they know you are the officer that doesn't touch junk. I guarantee you, if you to work in my facility, you'd be touching more junk than any hooker or urologist in Minnesota, I'd personally make sure of that. One inmate was caught not long ago with a nine pound block of cheese he jammed into his pants...."

The girl accomplished her early getaway at that point as her hoots and guffaws were disrupting the class.