Risk and Prejudice

Now that I run a veritable special opportunities fund here in prison, I’m beginning to see the full extent of credit risk that resides in this particular socio-economic class. The inmate that I shared a table with, in the craftshop, ran up a small tab with me down there the day he—and only he—knew that he was to leave. The following day, inmates were cleaning his station, and I, smiling, discovered his deceit.

Talking with a buddy about it today, I said that if it were even a theft that he would “enjoy” the fruits of out there, given that he had nowhere to go, I could view that as a mitigating circumstance. But he consumed my loan (cookies and a pastry) then and there, and thus committed the transgression on principle.

The compassion prison culture has for such immorality was attested to in a short dialogue I had with the inmates cleaning his station. One, with whom the miscreant did some actual business with, offered to cover the loss I incurred. I promptly accepted, but then, after more thoughtful consideration, told him that I appreciated his offer, but felt that it was proper that I cover it myself. His buddy laughed, saying that he knew my “Jewish ass” still wanted that money.

Now, I’m friendly with these guys, and the latter meant me no harm. He was probably joking, and whether he accepts the premise of his jest or not is beyond me, so I’ll not comment on that. (I couldn’t particularly care too much, either way). What I found ironic was the fact that, even in jest, it was I who was vilified.

My righteous indignation was a reproach, and it was my integrity and exactitude that was condemned. True, he was probably joking about the prejudice, but to use the context of theft to structure said joke is indicative of an underlying empathy for the thief.