Bingo

Trigger Warning: This story contains several brief references to physical violence, medical trauma and repeated profanity.

“What are you doing?” Matteson asked as he strode into the break room. Matteson’s right hand absently traveled to the radio on his waist and turned the sound down as far as it would go. General break room etiquette. 

“Why Matteson? You want in?” Smith mumbled.

“I don’t know. Just being polite I guess. I really just want to heat up my lunch.” He reached into the fridge and the fridge light poured out. The break room was always a little dark, they generally kept one of the banks of lights off. Keeping half the lights off in the small room was a surprisingly effective way to reduce the headache inducing eye strain the harsh lighting on the units could cause. 

“Just as well. You're probably too new to get in on this anyway. You think Blake?”

“I don’t know that we want to exclude the new guys…”

“Not exactly exclude, I just don’t want to scare them away,” Smith chuckled.

Things were quiet for a moment. Blake’s dark eyes were thoughtful as Matteson closed the microwave on his leftover lasagna and punched in two minutes. He turned his back on the  microwave and leaned his lanky body casually against the countertop facing his peers. “Don’t stop on my account, I’m not easily scared off.”

Another silence and then Blake said “you don’t have to play tough guy for our comfort Matteson. In case that’s what you're doing.”

Matteson eyed them both. Blake’s offer was genuine but unwanted. Matteson got the impression that Blake really wouldn’t judge him in a moment of weakness. But still, day in and day out, as the new guy, it felt like he always had something to prove. He ended the uncomfortable silence, “so what are you doing?”

“We were just talking about making a Correctional Officer Bingo,” Smith answered. Matteson’s face changed to a mix of amusement and confusion and Smith continued, “I think it’d be hilarious if done right… but it could also maybe be fucked up if we did it wrong.”

“We’ve been joking about it for a couple years,” Blake added, “but we actually want to do it now.”

“This is how you spend your breaks?”

“This is a hard job,” Blake defended, “we need things to lighten the mood a little sometimes.”

“Hmmm…, So where are you at with it?”

“The beginning. We’re just brainstorming some ideas for things we can put on it… you know, like ‘been vomited on.’... Look at his face!” Smith exclaimed to Blake. They laughed a little at Matteson’s disgust. “Just you wait brother.”

Blake chimed in, “the different things to put on the card is actually kind of hard because you don’t want it to be things that are too simple like ‘used handcuffs’ cause that's everyone. But it also can’t be too specific like, ‘had hot sauce thrown at you,’ because you want it to be reasonable to have the things have actually happened to you. And if people actually get into it, we also don’t want people, like, starting incidents to mark their Bingo card.” Smith nodded hard in agreement as Blake continued, “So it’s got to be like, common things, but not daily things, know what I mean?”

“Hmmm…” Matteson paused for a moment and then suggested, “like medical emergencies?”

“Sure”

Ding, ding, diiiiiiin- Matteson popped open the microwave and took his lasagna out. “Why don’t you break down into categories? Might help you get organized and generate ideas.”

“What do you mean categories?” Smith asked.

“Well a “B” on a Bingo card is like 1-15 or something and then “I” is what? 16-31 or something like that. So you make “B” medical emergencies and then you come up with 5 medical emergencies and then “I” is something else.” Matteson wedged the side of his fork into his lasagna and put a big chunk into his mouth.     

“That's a good idea,” Blake mused. “But we’d need more than 5  for each one. At least seven I’d think. So not every card is the same. But I guess maybe I’m jumping too far ahead.” She looked at Smith, “What should the categories be?”

“Well lets see, there’s critical incidents, pa-” 

“Erm, no” Matteson interrupted with a mouth full of lasagna. He chewed a couple more times and swallowed. “There are way too many types of critical incidents… you go to break it up.”

“Yeah, medical emergencies are definitely critical incidents,” said Blake, “and then we could do like, physical altercations… or actually types of assaults. And then maybe a category more for like, riots and fights?”

“I think we have like a “wild” category,” Matteson took another big bite of lasagna and pushed himself away from the countertop and toward the worn gray laminate table the other two were sitting at. He set down the lasagna and pulled back a chair. He positioned himself to be able to see Blake’s haphazardly written notes. “Riots and big fights definitely go under ‘wild’”

The deep lines in Smith’s forehead deepened further, “what else goes under wild?”

“Well, maybe this is just a rumor, but I heard that someone jumped from the top tier a couple years ago.”

Smith’s grizzled face generally didn’t demonstrate many emotions, at this point in his career, he’d pretty much seen it all. Still, his eyes widened as he solemnly muttered, “Oh yeah, that WAS wild.”

“Too wild,” said Blake evenly, “not a lot of COs will see that in their career.”

“Right” affirmed Smith.

Blake’s notes might have been disorganized but her mind was not. She drew a line through the middle of the page to separate her random notes at the top of the page from her more organized thoughts. “Here are the categories,” she said:

Physical altercations

Things you’ve been called or threatened

Medical emergencies

Just gross

“That's only 4,” noted Matteson.

“Yeah, sorry… My brain went real dark for a second.” 

There was a heavy pause as Smith studied Blake. Keeping an eye on his peers was as important as keeping an eye on the inmates considering the high rate of suicide in their profession. Matteson watched them both, he was too new to really feel the full weight of the job, but he could see it weighing on the two elder COs. 

“This is supposed to be fun right?” Matteson broke the silence, “What about like a feel good category? Like… umm… funny shit and like… umm…”

“Good stuff you might have done or had happened to you,” finished Blake, “like commendations.”

“Commendations don’t mean anything.”

“Sure they do Matteson. And don’t forget it,” Smith interjected. “This is a hard, thankless job. If you don’t want to show you’re proud of a commendation, then don’t show it. But if you get one, you let yourself feel proud. This is important work. You should be proud to do it well.” He turned his head to look at Blake, “All public recognition should be on there. Everyone needs to remember to give themselves credit where it's due. This would be a good reminder.” Blake nodded as she scribbled away on her pad.

Matteson polished off the rest of his lasagna and said “are you guys gonna eat?” likely noting that there was probably not much time left on their break. 

“Smith will eat a thousand calories in 2 minutes. You want to see something gross? You should have gotten here about 7 minutes earlier and you could watch him nearly swallow a whole lukewarm meatloaf in like two bites.” Blake’s exaggerated look of disgust implied she found it as amusing as she did gross. “He’s done,” She added. “And I generally take my food out to the floor. So we’ve both got a few minutes left to hash this out before we go back out there.“

“Okay, well I have a couple questions: when are we going to play this? And what do you get if you win?”

“It’s just an ongoing thing” answered Blake, “like you get your card and mark off what applies to you and then keep marking things until you retire I suppose. As for if you ‘win’” Blake did the finger air quotes, “well I suppose the prize is the glory,” she finished with a smirk.

“So no prize?”

“If you do this job long enough, everyone will get a Bingo, probably multiple Bingos. We can’t supply prizes for every CO in America who wins. Or even just everyone here who wins. They don’t pay us enough for that,” Blake smirked again.

“Alright, that's fair. So this isn’t just for us here then?”

“No… you know Wilkens?” Matteson nodded as Blake continued, “she’s huge in that online corrections group thing”

“Group thing? Like a social media thing?”

“Yeah. Right,” Blake said dismissively. Matteson couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Blake. She wasn’t that old, she couldn’t be that oblivious to social media. “She’s going to circulate the cards when they’re done.”

“Okay cool.” Matteson shrugged, “well we’d better finish it then. We don’t want to keep the corrections world waiting.” 

The work was quick now that they had their categories picked. It wasn’t long before Blake filled her page. 

B - Physical altercations

Been punched 

Been kicked

Been stabbed (by anything)

Broken up a fight

Responded to a riot

Responded to 10 or more back up calls

Dealt with an inmate with a weapon

Responded to a sexual assault

I - Things you’ve been called or threatened

Combination of 3 or more cuss words in one sentence (ex “bitch ass mother fucker”)

Something involving an animal (ex “fish faced bitch)

Something that makes absolutely no sense (ex: “ice cream eating, tire fighting beauty queen”)

Threatened to be stuffed into something

Threatened with physical violence

Threatened to be robbed

Threatened to be hit with a vehicle

Threatened with a hit

N - Medical emergencies

Responded to a seizure

Responded to a broken bone

Responded to a suicide attempt

Performed CPR

Had to use the Epi Pen

Given the Heimlich 

Done watch at the hospital

Put pressure on a bleeder

Responded to an OD

G - Just gross

Been spit on

Been vomited on

Been peed on  

Found (actual) shit during a shakedown

Found unknown fluids during a shakedown

Stepped in shit

Had food thrown at you

Restrained a naked inmate

Seen an inmate eating something not food (ex: hair, shit)

O - Good Shit

Accidentally handcuffed someone/something you weren’t supposed to

Tripped while walking the unit

Fell out of your chair

Ripped your pants during a critical incident

“Attaboy” in front of 2 or more people

Saved a peer inside or outside of work

Got promoted

“So, now someone just generates the cards and we give them to Wilkens?” Matteson asked.

“Pretty much,” Smith groaned as he stood from the table and stretched a little. Despite keeping in good shape, his back still felt about as old as the table. Their break was just about over and he used the stretches to limber his back up a little before re-hitting the floor. He looked out the door and saw Richardson walk past. Just as he was out of sight, his radio squawked loudly, “BACKUP TO MOD 8!”

“SHIT!” Blake exclaimed loudly as her and Matteson bolted out of their seats. Smith was already out the door sprinting down the harshly lit hall. Matteson’s dirty lasagna container and Smith’s notepad were left waiting on the tattered table.