There are two jails I frequent in my judicial circuit.  When I first started my job, I preferred one over the other. One afforded a cleaner setting with far more private meeting spaces.  But, oh it was 15 minutes away (a helluva commute for my small town).  And the other, it was two blocks from our office (err…trailers…) and so easy to access.  So I liked that jail better.

And then, I realized I didn’t like that jail so much.  It smells.  And you sit in a room made of clear plexiglass.  In the middle of each jail floor.  So all the inmates that you aren’t meeting with can gawk and heckle and scream “miss attorney, miss attorney, you gonna see me?”

No.  I’m not.

First off, you aren’t my client.

And secondly, your hands are down your pants, enjoying yourself a little too much while I talk to my clients.

So, no.  No, I am not going to see you.