Call me crowbar

Twenty years of my life pivots on a meeting with a recruiter at the prison tomorrow at 10am. Im so nervous. It just feels like if everything doesnt go perfectly, Im fucked. I bought a shirt and a belt and some shoe polish. I got my dad to iron the shirt and a pair of black dickies and I shined a pair of my army boots. I have everything together. Now I just have to be what it is that they want to hire. I have to say yes sir, no sir. Tell them I am the best for the job. And never, ever say I dont know. I just want to move out. Get a degree. Be a probation officer. Grow up. Live.