“My P.O ….”
At work, I recently heard that a coworker had to go and see his, “P.O”. “Parole Officer”. THAT to me is a bit scary. That someone got out of jail and is working THERE.
Hearing it, I laughed and asked my boss, “How many times have WE heard that over the years working here?” He shrugged and we both agreed it was, “many”.
That is the way of some factories: You get guys that are desperate for a job and so they go to what seem like desperate work places for a job. Some just use the work places to LOOK like they are straight and cool. They did their time and are now reformed. Some use the factory just to game the system. Note: “SOME”. Not all. SOME.
For example one former coworker would make a big show of going to see his P.O. It was a bad of COOL. Yeah man I am going to go see my P.O! I did TIME! Like that is such a great thing?
For some it is. A badge of toughness. For me it is a sign someone did something and paid a price. With the stigma of having to SEE a parole officer and being on parole, it is often hard for people to get a job and jobs they get are often low.
Like cheap factory jobs where I work.
Some are very grateful for a chance to be doing something worthwhile to build on and others… work is for suckers and losers. THOSE latter are the guys that will probably be back behind bars.
The recent incident made me think about how many times I have heard that “got to go see my P.O”. I wonder whatever happened to them. I remember one guy seemed like the nicest guy and then years later I heard he stabbed his girl friend to death. WHEW! Glad I never met him angry at work.
I hear that phrase and I cringe.
Long ago in my past I did things that could have led me to using that phrase or worse, not ever being able to use it due to death. I hear it and feel gratitude I cleaned-up so I only HEAR it and never have to SAY it.