Work Work Work

Somebody really needs to sweep my kitchen floor.

An odd feeling

So there's this guy, incarcerated in the Randolph county jail. He's got my phone number, either because he thinks he's calling someone he knows whom he hasn't called in a long while (who had my number before and doesn't anymore) or because he's actually just dialing anyone who will answer the phone midday. I actually suspect it's the latter - I think it's a random selection. I've never talked to him, even though he's called no less than 10 times. It's always collect. I have never accepted the charges: we have never spoken.

From the 1 second blurb he gets to fit in to try and convince me to accept the charges, from what I can tell he needs me to come down and post his bail or call someone else and get them to do it. I wonder how hard up I would have to be in order to call perfect strangers and ask them for help. I wonder who I would call to post my bond if I were incarcerated in the jail here in town. And then I start feeling bad because this is a human being crying out for help and I am pretending to turn a deaf ear. How heartless can I be?

How foolish could I be? I'm going to go down to the prison and post bond for a perfect stranger, someone whom I have never met and just hope that he shows up in court so that I can get my money back? I don't have money to throw away like that and really, that's just about as throwing it away as I can imagine. Stranger doesn't show up in court and I lose my money = brilliant move on my part. He obviously did something to get himself in there in the first place. If he doesn't have any money or friends to post for him, he can sit there until his trial. They feed him - he'll be taken care of. I have a vague but nonetheless earnest faith in the justice system...

In the meantime, though... for some reason I still feel like an ass.