Impatience is King

No matter how hard I stared at the radar screen, the snow would not scooch over to our office! Note: The pencil is pointing out where our office is located – the very tiny white area where sad workers in nearly-abandoned office parks were still inside working.

I say “were working” because I eventually got my wish and we all went home around noon in the name of snow safety. We are now all tucked safely in our homes eating milk sandwiches.

I strongly believe if were not for my impatience it would have taken the snow an additional fifteen minutes to get to us.

However, only my impatience has power, everybody else's impatience is just an annoying exhibition of selfishness and intolerance.

Sometimes when I get out of my class, depending on how many things have to get re-checked and locked down and radio-ed in,  the chapel volunteers will walk out with me. Most nights these are just gentle old southern folk wearing sweaters-over-button-ups looking to share their kindness and love of the gospel to convicts, last night there were two new ones and it really seemed as if they considered themselves some kind of privileged clients of the federal spa and retreat with the way they were carrying on and sighing and saying “i wish theyall would hurry up already” and “they need to get to this gate up in here” under their not-so-quiet breaths.

It takes forever (in regular outside-time time) to get out of the compound. There are practical security issues, not to mention a decent fifty-yard walk, and even more important- there is no real incentive to rush you out of there, so sometimes the dudes in the control room will wait until they are done eating their sandwiches or maybe finishing a chapter of Infinite Jest or quilting that last square for the company craft show or who knows what in thesamhell , to open the gate.

Whatever the case was last night, I was extremely uncomfortable to be around some bible volunteers that were verbally impatient. I had never once thought to complain to the dudes controlling the big gates, keys, cuffs, and electric fences and I was quite sure the guards were fixing to retaliate in some kind of secret way that only people who work in dark, locked, unceasingly surveyed rooms know about. So I did my best to distance myself from them by acting like I wasn’t even interested in whether or not the gate ever opened. The full act included acting surprised when it was my turn to walk in. I think it worked, although I didn’t get any nice small talk from the chapel volunteers on the way out to the parking lot like I usually do, but I can’t help it - there are rules ‘round here.

It is best to keep your impatience to yourself and (if not) to use it only for good.