It's Not Gas, Just My Ringtone

Every job has its war stories. Folks in ministry can tell both humorous and outrageous anecdotes about the life of the minister and the family of the minister.

Folks who work in law enforcement have their stories and those who work in prison have theirs.

So, my favorite so far is what happened on a unit in the area. Some years ago, Congress enacted what is called "safe prison" legislation that takes seriously the outcry of an inmate regarding sexual harassment, or threats of violence. Each outcry is supposed to trigger an investigation.

So, a man says his roommate is making improper advances toward him, and is immediately moved to a holding cell. This outcry triggers an investigation. When the cellmate is questioned, he denies the advances but offers this observation: "The guy wanted to move to get a better cell phone signal."

Cell phones are one of the many thousand of things that have become contraband in the prison for obvious reasons.

The officers drop their jaws. "He doesn't have a cell phone! We search his cell regularly!"

His cellmate is unmoved. "He has a cell phone and you won't find it!"

"Why is that?"

"He hides it up his butt!"

The officers, never easily phased, said, "Naw, can't be!" Then they look at each other. They leave and call the infirmary and schedule the guy for an X-ray. Word goes around the unit and when the X-ray is done, a crowd has gathered in the hall.

Sure enough, clear as everything, between his hips on the X-ray is an outline of a cell phone--and a charger! He had them wrapped in a latex glove.

It gives new meaning to the comment that wrong numbers are a pain in the butt!

He is commanded to "spit it up" or something sounding like that. He can't. So he takes a ride to Galveston where it is procedurally removed and confiscated.

Now, when someone tells me they have misplaced their cell phone, for some reason, I think of work.