Entry 19: Jim Beam "Takes" his Meds

All of the boys are on some kind of medication. There is a rigorous medication schedule that we must follow in order to give the proper dosages at the right times. For instance, most of the boys get their meds at 8 am and again at 8 pm. Of course, if a kid happens to be blowing out (having a tantrum) during either of these times, Staff will be hard pressed to dispense the meds properly. If a kid refuses or is unable to take his meds, we have to write a pesky Incident Report or think of some way to convince the severely agitated, definitely assaultive and possibly spitting retread to swallow his pills.

Of course, Jim Beam is fully aware of the headache he can cause by simply not taking his meds. Even though we feign indifference and say stuff like, "Hey, I get paid just the same whether you take your meds or not," nobody wants to write that Incident Report.

Jim Beam is constantly conceiving ways to prove that Staff is incompetent and that we should all be fired for all the injustices we have perpetrated upon him. One of the strategies we as staff employ is the old "good cop, bad cop" ploy. That is, we are assigned these roles by the kids when they are "targeting" one of us (blaming one person for all the bad things in his life, trying to hit one particular person, trying to get someone's attention).

One evening as Jim was well into one of his epic blowouts: nude, standing in the quiet room in a puddle of urine with a ripped up sock tied around his dick. The staff dealing with him at the time asked me to get Jim's meds and switch with him because he thought that Jim would only take his meds if given by someone else. I got the meds and changed places with the other staff.

"Hey Jimmy how's it going? I got your meds for you. Here you go."

I tried to look as non-chalant as a person can in the presence of a 14-year-old with an old sock turning his dick blue.

"Nope. You can't make me take it. You're getting fired because you're a white-ass bitch honky. Fine I'll take it."

I handed him his meds, a large white pill and a little red one. He pulverized the white one in his hands and jammed it into his face, snorting and sniffing the whole time.

"They'll have to fire you when I get the bloody nose."

He was licking his hand now.

"You know, I'm still waiting to get fired for when you bashed your face in the ground when we proned you last week. You had a bloody nose then, too. Did you forget to call your lawyer?"

This made him mad. I saw the cold determination and self-satisfaction in his face as he jammed the red pill up his ass.

"Now someone has to go get it because I could die and I hope I do. You're going to lose your job, you goddamn white Elvis. You fuckin' cracker eater. Bitch-ass ho!"

I called for the other staff to switch back with me. He called from the staff office,

"Should I write in the med log that he refused?"

"No, dude. I got him to take it. Used my skills."