I Had a Shitty Job in Prison
“Down in a wastewater-treatment pit, I kept furiously shoving the black liquid toward the pump, with a squeegee.”
My muscles were in agony, and getting too weak for the work. My shoulders were on fire. My back ached. “Keep pushing!” the city contractor yelled, from high up above. I was down in a wastewater-treatment pit in a central Georgia city, and kept furiously shoving the black liquid toward the pump, with a squeegee. We had been down there for hours, starting early in the morning and working through our lunch break, which would have been two hours ago if we had gotten it. My forearms screamed in
