Most days, I get started at 4:30 a.m. with a not-so-polite reminder from my alarm clock, telling me that it’s time to get up and get ready for work. I brush my teeth and wash my face. I put on my Timberland boots and prison-issued clothes. After that, it’s only a matter of time before the booth officer opens my cell door so I and many others can report to work.
Here at Nottoway Correctional Center, in Virginia, that time of the morning is dubbed “The Woodshop Walk.” It’s truly a spectacle. Picture roughly 70 guys spilling out of the building around 5:15 a.m., all heading to the woodshop. While some walk at a leisurely pace, plenty of others, including myself, aren’t out for a morning stroll. We are on a mission to get to the shop as quickly as we can. That way we avoid standing in line to get dressed in the proper work clothes and to punch in.
In the woodshop, every single worker is required to change from “prison blues” into a smock and work pants. Never mind that our work attire is forest green. The thing that usually captures everyone’s attention is the sight and smell of sawdust. There’s also the steady hum of the dust collection system whenever it’s turned on, usually after we eat breakfast. Both breakfast and lunch take place in the shop — thanks to the food carts that the kitchen sends over for each meal.
It isn’t long after morning chow that the shop begins to bustle with all sorts of activity and sounds. There are compression bits drilling grommet holes, downcut bits cutting tracks and grooves into different materials, routers making round-overs, and so on.
I work as a computer numerical control, or CNC, machine operator. Machinists like me set up and operate equipment to produce specific metal parts used in all kinds of industries. I also serve as “lead man” for the department that handles the cutting of various hardwoods for tenons and mortises (think Legos snapping together). Besides training others to operate the machines in this area, I’m responsible for the quality of the parts produced there.
Most of what is made in this department are chair parts, the measurements for which must be precise, or else they won’t fit together properly. Learning any of these machines benefits someone interested in this line of work upon release; this particular trade is in demand these days. The prison wages, which range from 27 cents to 80 cents an hour, are enough to support an incarcerated person, and occasionally send some to loved ones if the money is managed wisely.
But more than that, my job gives me a sense of responsibility, purpose and motivation. I take pride in what I do.
By the time I clock out around 3 p.m., I am ready to get back to the pod. You best believe this: the ol’ Woodshop Walk definitely goes both ways. Only this time, it’s a race for the shower, kiosk or phone — all of which is hopefully accomplished before dinner.
After working a full shift, it’s nice to unwind and watch a little TV.
