Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature...

And sometimes before 25, you are just unlucky enough to be really immature. And it really sucks to have to call your parents from the county klink. And 15 years later, they still won't let you forget it.

A few weeks ago I was doing some highly intelligent, highly important social networking on this highly informative, highly important website called Twitter and during one of my highly intelligent Tweet's it was discovered that I have been one of the chosen few to have had the privilege of wearing an orange jumpsuit for a night or two. Two to be exact. I was also able to partake in the free flip flops that were given out. Trendsetters those county klinks are. Trendsetters.

As a young student of Geology in 1994, I found out that Geologists liked to drink beer and beer didn't come free. A job I had to find. And quick. Because beer didn't come free unless you were talking to the creepy guys and then it totally wasn't worth it. So I found a job. I was able to get paid enough to cover beer money and rent, keep my clothes on, keep my Mineralogy & Petrology lab schedule (two classes that should never be taken in the same semester) and wear hiking boots to work! Score.

Please don't take what I am about to write as anything more than how society worked. It is what it is and it's not fair, it's not right and it needs to change. I don't agree with it and and shameful that I bought into the behavior and used it to my advantage, even though I knew better. Live and learn. I am not here to judge...

As a cute, blond haired, suburban, white girl applying for a job in an urban big box home improvement store staffed primarily by young black males (hey, it was totally close to school) I was hired for a position that left me with a lot of responsibility and even more freedom. All because I was a white college student. I could have been a total space cadet (I wasn't) and still would have been hired because of what I looked like. They didn't give a crap about my experience or qualifications. It was all about image. This position paid way more than any other position in the store and I could be pretty much on my own. I needed a job and morals were not on the top of my list. Beer, rent, boys and school (in that order) were.

I came to work everyday on time, looked cute, did my job (or so they thought...I was really doing my lab work most days) and didn't get involved with the drama that other employees were involved in. Retail = ReSteal. Plain and simple.

One of my responsibilities was to supervise the department that handled home installations. There were several cute installers that would pop in from time to time to try and score, umm I mean say hi. They needed to give me their material invoices, have me give the stamp of approval and send them off to a job. Mindless work. That is why I was able to get an A in Mineralogy that semester.

There was one guy (of course there was) who was always overly friendly if you know what I mean. Fresh out of the SeaBee's, he was pretty fun to have lunch or a beer after work with. I had a boyfriend at the time (read: current husband) and was not playing into it as much as just having fun with it. Or so I thought.

Long story short, Mr. Honorable Navy Man was playing me for a fool. Not one invoice he ever gave me was real. There were thousands of dollars of merchandise rolling out the back door while I was reading Dr. Mursky's lecture notes. Rhodochrosite, my ass.

One day just after lunch, I started to notice a little different vibe around the store. Then I noticed a whole bunch of cops around the back office. Thinking that another employee got caught stealing, I went on with my day. A few hours later I was called into HR. Wearing a short wrap skirt, sleeveless top and sandals, I bee-bopped my way in the office where I was promptly handcuffed and given my Miranda rights.

Here's where I peed a little.

I was told that I was the being taken downtown (seriously) and was going to be questioned in the theft of materials from the store. They walked me out in handcuffs through the entire store while all the employees stared. I was put into the back of a squad car (did you know that the backseats have indentations where you can put your arms?) and drove me to jail. Because it was a Friday afternoon in a major metropolitan area, the intake room of said jail was full of freaks. Since it was Friday afternoon in a major metropolitan area the jail was also full so I was lucky enough get to spend the entire night in the intake room with all of the freaks. Me and the freaks. Male and female freaks all in one big room. Me, a naive blond haired, white girl in a wrap skirt and sandals with drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, wife beaters, drunks and God knows what else.

I was able to use the phone though. So, do I call my parents to come and rescue me immediately? Hell no, they would kill me! Do I call an attorney for help? Of course not. I called my boyfriend who was just another broke ass college student with no connections, of course. What in the hell was he going to do? Not kill me is what he was going to do. He ended up knowing more that me though so he filled me in. The detectives were looking for Mr. Honorable Navy Man and wouldn't let me go until they had him in custody. Mr. Honorable Navy Man was no where to be found though. Why step up and be honest when a 19 year old girl can take the fall for you?

So I talked at length with the detectives. They called me "cherubic" and told me they were sorry I got mixed up into this, blah, blah, blah. What they were not going to do however was let me go. This went on for over 20 hours.

Saturday morning, I was given my orange jump suit, flip flops and pillow. They sent me to a "unit" and told me my court date would be on Monday. Thank you and goodnight.

Here's where I start loosing it.

They locked me into a cell with this crazy old black woman who wanted nothing more than to make me her bitch. She petted my hair (I am not joking) and told me how she was "innocent, she didn't kill that bitch." She gave me the lowdown on who to stay away from and what guard would bring you a cigarette and a candy bar if you gave him a little somthin' somthin'. I was too damn scared to sleep for fear my innocence would be taken by a big, black she-male. So instead I asked her if I could read her copy of The Shining.

People, I couldn't make this up even if I tried.

I read The Shining.
In jail.
While not sleeping.
On the top bunk.
Of an 8x8 foot jail cell.
With a big.
Black.
She-male.
Underneath me.
Planning how to turn me into her love slave.

The next day I caved. I called Mom and Dad. They were beyond pissed and hung up on me. They hung up on me during my only phone call. THEY HUNG UP ON ME DURING MY ONLY PHONE CALL.

A few hours later my 17 year old sister was waiting behind the glass with one of those phones in her hand. I was led into the other side of the visiting booth in handcuffs. My sister busted out with "You are way better off in here. Mom and Dad are going to kill you." "See ya sucka. Can I have your car?" "Brenda, there are people having sex between the glass next to us." "Mom and Dad are going to kill you." "See ya at your funeral." "I told them to let you wear the red dress because you are so going to hell."

Mom and Dad posted my bail and drove me home. They wouldn't even take me to my apartment first so I could try and escape. They drove straight home without saying a word. My sister of course didn't shut up. At home they told me to shower and go to bed. I was sure they were going to discuss the best options for putting me out of my misery. But no such luck. I was screamed at starting early the next morning until our late afternoon appointment with my parent's attorney.

Several court dates later, I was charged with a misdemeanor for party to a crime (of which
I had no idea was occurring) or something like that, given my sentence of two days already served and sent on my way.

Except two days already served is really a lifetime sentence of hearing about the reputation I chose to lay upon my self as a convict. According to the people who posted my bail at least.

And they made me move home for a semester and commute.

And my street cred went right back into suburban oblivian.
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If anyone knows the movie that this post title came from you will receive my unwavering devotion for life. Tainted reputation included.