Are you trying to scare me?

I dressed in jeans and boots even though I am more comfortable in a long skirt. Mack closed his door and asked me why I wanted to work in this field. He told me it would wear me out and make me cry. He said I would need to have a thick skin, good people skills, excellent memory, and be able to shut up and listen. He said it would be the hardest job I had ever had; long irregular hours, too much paperwork, and serious risk. He said people would yell at me, spit on me, and I would be exposed to horrific crimes against children that would not leave my dreams for years to come. He told me stories about how tires had been slashed, caseworkers were stalked and judges had thrown caseworkers into jail for contempt, because a report was not what they wanted to hear.

“Are you trying to scare me off or hire me?” I asked with a smirk. He laughed and said, “You’ll do, but don’t EVER come back in here and tell me I didn’t warn you!”

Mack was pleased that I had experience working with offenders. He said I would be an asset to his unit because none of the other five caseworkers had this knowledge. He asked what I had learned in working with them.

I paused to think. I told him I would not minimize their crimes, but explained I started out scared, and ended up feeling compassion. Some of them were stupid, young, socially backward, and had grown up without decent parenting. They were often victims too. Mack nodded, his shaggy shoulder length white hair sticking out from under his ball cap. He listened intently but his face held no expression. I found myself wondering what he was thinking.

He quietly commented, “Your new coworkers won’t appreciate your compassion for offenders. They hate them! That’s why you will be good for us; help us remember there are two sides to every story.”

We talked about my history. What prepared me for this leap into the fire? I told him I am been teaching school for 25 years and loved it. He responded that I probably had a pretty good handle on how to talk to kids then. He asked about my biases. I told him I had not enjoyed working with adult female victims because they seemed to whine for a long time before moving forward. I told him I had come in contact with women who claimed to have repressed memory and two who believed they had been victims of ritualistic satanic abuse and I had trouble buying off on it. We talked about cases I had reported during my years as a teacher. I told him two little boys who had disclosed severe sexual abuse at the hands of their father haunted my dreams. They disappeared the night after social workers went to the home and questioned the mother. They were the ages of my daughters and I often wondered where they were and if they had gotten help.

“Were you a victim?” Mack whispered unexpectedly.

My chin jerked up and I stared into dark knowing eyes. I wondered what he would say if I told the truth. Would He still give me the job? I hesitated., not sure how to answer.