Here’s how the grievance process works. You start with an Informal Complaint form, which is on the JPay kiosk. You get 15 minutes to type it on a keyboard where none of the keys indicate what letters they are, so unless you memorized the standard keyboard, you type absolute gibberish. Also, you have a six-thousand character limit on your complaint– so you better hope the fuckweasels don’t do six-thousand and one characters worth of nonsense to you or else the federl courts, which mandate exhaustion of this process, will kick you out of court later and steal your funds for life until you pay off their astronomical filing fee because you did not fairly present your claim in the administrative remedy limited to six-thousand characters.
After you file your fifteen minute, six-thousand character complaint, you’ll likely get treated pretty shabby by lots of staff who have been told you’re the problem and you’re pointing fingers at their co-workers. Depending on how serious the accusation you filed is how serious the repression you can expect. Then, you’ll get a mindless half-sentence response from a fuckweasel who may or may not have actually read what you wrote.
You then file a grievance, except that when you opt to file a grievance, the kiosk doesn’t tell you that what you’re filing is a grievance. Instead, it asks you to give a “reason to escalate.” This sounds to me like the machine is asking for a reason to allow you to file a grievance… or asking for an explanation as to why you want to “escalate,” i.e., take everything to a whole new level.
I can think of a million reasons for that:
“Your state isn’t even legally a state…”
“Your laws aren’t even real laws…”
“You have no real authority…”
“You don’t bother following laws you claim are laws even though they’re not…”
“You’re pointing a shotgun at my head and stopping me from going home…”
“You’re afraid of good ideas and you’ve never had any…”
“You had me tortured…”
“You fuck up daily and distort 50,000 captives…”
“Your schools suck…”
“Your roads aren’t much better…”
“Straight up, we don’t even fucking need you…”
“I’ve bottled up 25 years of rage that you have packed into me, so it’s only fair that I expend it all on you rather than some other asshole who doesn’t have it coming…”
Just spit-balling. I think I’ll stop there. You get the idea– lots of reasons to “escalate,” as if someone locked in a cage by fuckweasels really even needs a reason anyway.
I learned “reason to escalate” really is the grievance when Institutional Inspector Cynthia Hill denied the grievance that I was unaware I had even filed. But, the good news, I have nine more grievances pending on the kiosk, followed by something like 34 more that I submitted on the TIP line email since the kiosk only allows ten grievances.
Since they limit us to ten grievances, I guess the eleventh terrible thing that fuckweasels do to you is perfectly permissible?
One of the grievances I filed related to the mailroom monkeys stealing my mail and not even documenting it on the right forms, using an out of date form from 1995. Cynthia Hill, known locally as “The Notorious” Cynthia Hill, due to for infamy for signing off on any atrocity committed by her extended bowling team, denied that grievance too. Notorious claims I cannot file a grievance because I had an “appeal process” to appeal the mail withholding and, according to her, I didn’t avail myself to the appeal process.
Of course, I did avail myself to it. In fact, on direction from Deputy Warden of Operations Casey Barr, I sent the appeals directly to him.
Barr has an office right next to Notorious.
Barr is so completely boring his nickname among staff is “Deputy Warden of Operations Casey Barr.” No shit.
At any rate, Notorious claims I have not availed myself of an appeal process when the appeals to the theft of mail are in the office next to her.
She’s quite an inspector. You ought to see the size of the magnifying glass she has in her detective bag.
If only she had spoken to me, which would likely be the best place to start any investigation, she would know that I availed myself to the appeal process for the withholding and sent the appeal to the guy in the office right next to hers– which is also somewhat irrelevant, given that the forms used to document all of this are no longer in use and there are no criteria for withholding that were even mentioned in the first place… which she would also know if she spoke to me.
I suspect my mail and the appeal I sent in have both been tossed in the trashcan already. I suspect there is no appeal. I suspect Notorious will never take her magnifying glass out of her detective bag to look for my mail or the appeal. I suspect that, from the beginning, the plan was to steal my mail and trash it, filling out a form no longer in use, and trashing anything I send back, claiming to have never received it.
In fact, I would bet money that, on several occasions, the mailroom monkeys and the fuckweasels directing them have stolen my mail, filled out a form, put a copy in a file folder, and never so much as sent the copy to me. I bet there is a pile of mail destroyed that I never even knew existed.
But this proves it to me.
And, hopefully, to the machete-wielding, molotov-throwing, cop-car-tipping, dumpster-burning, savage-cannibal-maniacs out there.
So, if you ever wrote to me and I never wrote back, it isn’t because I was laying next to the pool with a martini and I was too busy to write you back. No. It’s because the fuckweasels and the mailroom monkeys trashed your mail to me, knowing Norotrious is firmly on their team.
* * *
Categories: Sean Swain