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Center Memory before/after Random Memories: The group had filed out onto the cedar chip trail just outside their cabin. All in their blues and in line. Showing what was known at the Center as "good line criteria". Criteria was a big thing. I remember walking up, hearing the crickets, the sounds of the group thunking out onto the trail, the heat of the day as summer slid into autumn. They started the process of checing their personal appearance, known as "checking p.a.'s", which involved tucking clothes in, buttoning pockets, making sure the belt buckle lined up, and about a million other arbitrarely decided bits of insanity. One of my groups, anyway. I had been a part of this group in many ways. Perhaps then I wasn't an official part of that group. They might have had me elsewhere. It didn't really matter. By then, it was as much my camp as my supervisor's, which I am sure did not sit well with him. And one camper would not put his heels together so the group could check p.a.'s. as was the criteria and order of things. Feet together, check p.a.'s. And the group would respond, p.a.'s checked. The client's sighed and the staff team looked stern. Jimmy was up to old tricks. Holding the group hostage. The staff team was stuck on stupid, playing into his hand. Some people just should not have power of any sort of anyone else. I had been there and back with Jim. I didn't know it at the time, but I had. I suppose today was the day I learned it. Jim was a tall gangly youth from detroit who's father had terrorized and beaten him until he made a very good criminal. On a feild trip, Jim had seen Star Wars Episode One. When he came back, he tried to talk to me about it, and I nicknamed him "sehbulbah". This says something about the level of our relationship. I walked up to the line. "What's up, Sehbulbah?" I said, breaking balls with my tone. "Man, you better go on with that Sehbulbah stuff," he muttered under his breath "You'd better talk to Mr. Argentum with some respect," an old staffer growled, "Or you'll be suckin' woodchips on the trail." I motioned slightly and the staffer shut up. Interesting to me now, after its all done, how everyone was keyed into my non-verbals. I could make groups of people move with a slight wave of my hand. "Whatsamatta' Jim," I drawled. "Man, these dudes talkin', talkin' bout this and that'. Always try to restrain me for petty stuff," jimmy muttered. I paused and thought about it. Just another personal battle between transferring client and overkill staff. Powermad staff. "Well, Jim," I began, "For godsakes, DON'T put your feet together." I started to feel a real run of biting sarcasm building. The kids did, too. So did jim. He lowered his head and grinned ear to ear in an aw-shucks gesture. And headed me off at the pass. "Awright, Mr. Argentum." he said, putting his feet together. The group checked p.a.'s, sounding off rather loud. Something had happened, and the group really responded. As if in this set of moments, the pressure had been entirely let out of the pressure cooker. A bomb defused, and rather then spend the night in pointless restraints and treatment plan activity, a normal night would ensue. And did. I directed the shift co-ordinator around to escort my group while I had a word with the staff. "Thanks, Mr. Argentum," he said, "Jim nearly always takes that to a full restraint." "Really," I said. "Yeah. He nearly always takes everything to a full restraint." he said. I felt like I had found someone who likes kicking dogs, but the truth of the matter is that the kid was playing the old man for a fool, calling his card everytime, trashing his credibility with the other kids, undermining his authority, destablizing the group. And the guy...patently could not see it. Loss of objectivity. Rule crazy myopia. "Well, Mr. Pine," I began, "He takes it there every time, because you allow him to do so. He's deliberately provoking you to undermine your credibility." He was clearly taken aback. "I don't see how-" he started. "Just be nice." I said, "Don't ever underestimate the power of being nice." "Wha-?!" the old man began again. "I've got things I have to do, Mr. Pine. I'll have a training form for you to sign in your box." And he left. I tried again a couple of times, and eventually had him transferred a week or two later.
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