Gray-Bar Suites

Barry Tuttle worked as a guard. For twenty seven years, Monday through Saturday with a rotating day off midweek, he'd worn the butternut uniform more than a few guests of the Hastings Women's Correctional Facility claimed complimented his eyes. This morning when he looked in his closet those duds were missing. Six brand new uniforms, if they could truly be called uniforms, hung in their place. They consisted of a crisp white shirt, white dress slacks and a matching jacket. I'm your ice cream man, stop me as I'm passing by. Barry's stomach clenched, Diamond Dave he was not.

He'd seen it coming for a while. Privately owned correctional facilities had been gaining market share over Public/Federally supported institutions over his entire career. With privatization comes competition and once Amazon got involved, things got a little weird. Amazon's interest tipped the Lion's share of the penal pay-dirt to the private sector. Focus would no longer be on wresting control away from the feds but rather on cannibalizing competitive counterparts.

The new uniforms came with a new title for Barry: Host. All part of Amazon's new, "Destination Incarceration" promotion. The botched burglary, assault or common assortment of Saturday night offenses that usually led to three hots and a cot were small potatoes. Leave those to Canada. Extras and add ons were where the real dough was to be made. The mess halls would now be bistros. Greens would still be served on Sunday but now kale instead of collards. Orange would no longer be the new black. A choice of understated ensembles from J. Crew would be available for purchase for those settling up societal debt imbalances. Thread count counts, and as always, membership has its privileges. If you can in fact afford to do the time, then by all means, do the crime. And don't worry. If you have Prime, we'll leave a light on for you.

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