Last month, on burger day at the chow hall, I politely asked the officer who was scanning our ID cards if I could enter without being scanned.

To my surprise, the officer complied. He waved the laser scanner in the direction of the line and looked the other way. I ate my burger and then — because I was not previously counted — I looped back in line to eat a second one.

My day was immeasurably better for it.

When burger day came around again, a different officer stood at the scanner. I made the same request as last time and again received the go-ahead.

I know that I rarely speak positively of the dining hall food served by the Florida Department of Corrections and its food service provider Aramark. But once a month, their menu features a 100% all-beef patty.

Unlike their other patties (which I have written about at length), these don’t appear to have been shat out by an industrial patty-producing machine. These may have been shaped by hand, having arrived in 25-pound tubes of Grade C ground chuck. I don’t even care that I’ve found bone chips in them. It’s genuine beef.

The remainder of the tray is unremarkable: reconstituted beans, a cabbage “salad” whiter than printer paper, and the always overcooked noodles. No one’s coming to the dining hall for the noodles. But the burger? That 5-ounce delight comes with a real bun!

It’s a high-value item in the prison bartering economy. Certainly, someone in the dorm would be willing to trade his for canteen items, including multiples of 17-cent Keefe coffee singles or new 78-cent Ramen Express soups. This would be the least conspicuous solution, one that requires little more than payment and walking with that individual to the dining hall.

Alternatively, I could find a kitchen worker willing to creatively appropriate (read: smuggle) burger patties back to the dorm. This is probably both more expensive and less reliable.

There’s also a third option: sneaking around the line. This is especially devious, and as a gangly nerd, I stand out too much to consider it seriously.

None of these options are in any way permitted by the prison system, nor are they behaviors I would ever dare condone openly. Chapter 33 of the Florida Administrative Code, which governs the state prison system, prohibits bartering.

My point is that none of that was necessary. Asking politely was sufficient. There was no pleading or trades. I uttered a simple “please,” and I was on my way to a second burger.

Will fortune continue favoring the bold? Will the trend hold? Who knows. Who cares? I ate two real burgers, and that made my day.