What's the Best Job in Federal Prison?

I'd been at Taft Federal Prison Camp for only a few days when I learned that young, healthy prisoners like me were expected to spend their first 120 days working in the kitchen.

I didn't want to work in the kitchen. I'd already asked my case manager, Ms. Mickleberry, if I could work as an orderly instead. She shut that idea down. I was going to the kitchen, and I assumed there was nothing else to discuss.

Then I met Michael Santos.

When I told Michael about my assignment, he gave me a hard time.

"So is that what you USC people do? You just give up?"

I hadn't given up. At least I didn't think I had. My case manager had told me where I was going to work, and I accepted it. Michael saw things differently. Even if I couldn't avoid the kitchen, perhaps I could find an assignment that worked with the schedule I wanted.

That possibility hadn't occurred to me.

The Man Who Helped Me Get My First Prison Job

Michael and I were walking the track when he pointed toward a guy playing bocce ball. Bald head. Ponytail. His name was Baker.

Baker had been in prison a long time and, according to Michael, had responsibility for assigning kitchen jobs. Michael suggested I introduce myself and ask what positions were available.

I was nervous. I'd been in prison for about three seconds, or at least that's how it felt. I didn't know Baker, didn't understand how things worked, and wasn't particularly excited about interrupting a longtime prisoner during his bocce ball game.

Before approaching him, I needed to decide what job I wanted.

I'd seen enough of the chow hall to know I didn't want to serve food. Prisoners complained about portions, wanted more food, and argued with the people behind the serving line. No thanks. Sweeping floors sounded easy enough. Baking required showing up around five in the morning, and I couldn't bake anything.

Then there were pots and pans.

I wanted to exercise in the morning, when I had the most energy. I also wanted time to read, write, and prepare for coming home. Working pots and pans during lunch and dinner seemed like the best of the worst.

Before I approached Baker, Michael suggested bringing something from the commissary as a thank-you. He lent me something to offer.

I walked over to the bocce ball game and stumbled through an introduction. Baker didn't need a long explanation.

"What job do you want?"

I asked what was available. He mentioned the different assignments, and I asked what he thought was the best of the worst.

Pots and pans. Lunch and dinner.

Exactly what I wanted.

I tried to hand him what Michael had given me. He told me to put it down. I left, relieved that the conversation was over.

Two days later, I checked the callout list.

Pots and pans. Lunch and dinner.

I got the job.

Would I recommend that someone entering federal prison bring commissary items to another prisoner in exchange for a work assignment? No. Informal arrangements can violate prison rules and create problems. But I would encourage someone to ask questions, learn how the institution assigns jobs, and speak with staff about available work.

Without Michael, I probably would have accepted whatever assignment I received. I wouldn't have known what alternatives existed because I hadn't bothered to ask.

The Easiest Job in Federal Prison Isn't Always the Best

During a recent video, I spoke with a former federal prisoner who served his sentence at Lompoc. His approach to choosing a job was different from mine.

He wanted the easiest assignment available. Not because he intended to sit around all day. He wanted more time to exercise, play pickleball, lift weights, and write. Eventually, he became an orderly cleaning bathrooms. The work took about an hour and a half each day.

For roughly 90 days, he did the job himself. He cleaned the bathrooms thoroughly, and people noticed. Later, he arranged for his bunkmate to take over some of the cleaning in exchange for payment.

That arrangement created problems. Other prisoners questioned why someone else was performing his assigned work, and he found himself explaining the situation. What began as a way to free up time had become another source of aggravation.

Paying another prisoner to perform your assigned job can violate institutional rules. I wouldn't recommend it.

What interested me more was how he thought about his time. He wanted a job that wouldn't interfere with the activities he valued.

Other prisoners prefer the opposite. I've known people who enjoyed working eight hours a day because it gave them structure and somewhere to go. Some liked getting away from their housing units and working outside on maintenance crews.

Then there are prisoners who need the money. They may have little or no financial support and depend on their wages to purchase items from the commissary.

But suppose you're a former executive or business owner. Your spouse can help you financially while you're incarcerated. You know that eventually you'll have to explain your conviction, your time in prison, and what you intend to do professionally when you come home.

Would you prefer spending eight hours a day working because it makes the sentence feel shorter? Or would you rather have a less demanding assignment that gives you additional time to write, study, and prepare for release?

I know which one I'd choose. Of course, your financial situation, sentence length, and personal goals may lead you to a different decision.

Are You Working to Stay Busy or Preparing to Come Home?

I've noticed that some people become exceptionally good at keeping themselves occupied in prison. They develop routines around work, exercise, meals, television, and counting down the days.

I understand the temptation. I counted down my own sentence. But what happens when the countdown reaches zero?

During our conversation, my guest described prisoners who loved working on outside crews. Some drove around the community cleaning streets or performing maintenance work. He talked about opportunities to eat food outside the institution before returning to camp.

I can see the appeal. After spending months or years inside a federal prison, getting outside the institution for several hours could be a welcome change.

My question would be what they're doing when they're not working.

Are they writing? Studying? Staying connected with their families? Preparing to return to work? Learning about the conditions they'll face on supervised release?

Someone serving a long sentence may welcome the structure of a full workday. Another prisoner may depend on the wages to meet basic expenses. Those are legitimate considerations.

I've also spoken with prisoners who had the financial resources and available time to prepare for release but spent very little time doing so.

I think that's a mistake.

At Taft, I wanted to write, exercise, and study what had happened in my life. I knew people would have questions after prison. Some would ask about my conviction. Others would wonder what I'd done with my time or why they should trust me again.

I'd already spent three years as a federal defendant. Looking back, I could identify plenty of opportunities I'd wasted during those years. I didn't want to make the same mistake during my prison sentence.

Could Your Prison Job Get You Sent to the SHU?

One part of our conversation surprised me. My guest described what happened to prisoners assigned to departments where other people were breaking rules.

He talked about maintenance departments where some prisoners had contraband phones, drank alcohol, or used drugs. Not everyone working in those departments was involved, but when staff discovered misconduct, investigations affected other prisoners in the area.

He said he'd watched prisoners get sent to the Special Housing Unit, or SHU, while staff investigated. According to him, some spent as long as two months there despite having no involvement in the misconduct he knew about.

Imagine showing up to your assigned job, completing your work, and then finding yourself questioned because several people in your department had been breaking rules.

Working in the same department doesn't automatically make someone guilty of misconduct. Still, an investigation can lead to searches, questioning, and disruptions for people who weren't involved.

My guest said that was another reason he liked working as an orderly. He cleaned his assigned bathrooms, worked alone, and finished his shift. He didn't have to spend the day around a group of prisoners who might create problems.

I thought that was a pretty good observation.

When people ask about federal prison jobs, I generally think about the hours, physical demands, and how an assignment might interfere with other activities. After hearing his experience, I'd encourage them to think about the people they'll be working alongside, too.

The Day a Guard Questioned Me About Missing Utensils

I saw some of these problems firsthand while working in the kitchen at Taft.

Prison kitchens have utensils that must be accounted for. Some prisoners tried to take items back to their housing units to cook, which could create serious problems when something went missing.

One day, a correctional officer questioned me about missing utensils. I didn't know where they were, and I told him that.

He kept asking.

Eventually, I told him directly that he was making me uncomfortable. I didn't know anything about the missing utensils, and I couldn't give him information I didn't have.

I wanted to finish my shift, avoid disciplinary trouble, and get back to the activities I'd planned. Getting caught up in someone else's misconduct was the last thing I needed.

I've discussed similar situations when talking about disciplinary problems in federal prison. You can be doing your assigned work and still find yourself answering questions about something another prisoner has done.

There is no reason to participate in misconduct or become an amateur investigator. And if staff question you about something you don't know, don't invent an explanation because you feel pressured to give