At 5:05 this afternoon, I was still at work, sitting at my desk and typing on the computer. I had planned to leave at 5:30, but the next thing I knew, the door to the office had opened and two of the 3rd watch correctional officers were coming in from the corridor.
“What are you still doing here?” one of them demanded. “It’s Friday. You’re five minutes late for happy hour.”
“Go home!” the other one ordered. “You need to have been gone. Go on, pack up and get out of here. I’m watching you.”
I knew these two officers well because I’d worked with them for several years now. They liked me, and I liked them. While neither of them were being jerks, they were both telling me what to do in a firm and authoritative manner that basically left no room for argument. I could see how they would be very effective in handling potentially dangerous inmates. Two uniformed officers giving me direct orders to call it a day, go home, and start my weekend? Who was I to argue?