Former Florida prisoner Michael Anguille decries for-profit contractor Keefe's decision to increase prison commissary prices by up to 40% this month. Many items in the commissary already cost twice what they do in retail stores.
How would you like to pay $1.06 for a ramen noodle soup that costs $.39 at Wal-Mart? Or $2.81 for a four-ounce pack of tuna that runs $1.29 at Target?
In mid-September, Keefe Co., the private, multi-million dollar contractor that stocks Florida prison commissaries, raised prices as much as 40% statewide. It was the latest in a consistent string of price increases by the company, which has a monopoly in the Florida prison system, and ensured that inmates and their families will continue to bear undue economic burdens in the name of little more than corporate greed and insatiability.
It has to stop. Before the hike, commissary prices, which were as much as 100% higher than those of common retail grocery stores, were already outside the scope of what is affordable for thriving citizens of the free world, let alone for inmates who have no choice but to rely on their families for financial support. (Florida requires all inmates have jobs, but does not allow them to be paid.)
I was one of those inmates. I did eight-and-a-half years in the Florida system with only my disabled old man to rely on for support. Somehow, he scraped together $100 every month so I could have extra to eat from the commissary. Yes, it was indeed extra. But make no mistake: It was abundantly necessary in light of the substandard diet provided by the state.
Officially, Aramark, the (also private, for-profit) contractor who provides food services to the Florida Department of Corrections, offers a “balanced” 2,000 calorie per-day diet to inmates. They pin their tidy little menus around prison compounds detailing such delectable concoctions as “Shepherd stew” and “Yakisoba,” and even stamp them with the signature of a real dietician.
Then they provide enough on a plate to leave a 7-year-old wanting. (We won’t even talk about quality.)
I was one of the fortunate ones. An analysis by the Bookings Institution found that “boys born into households in the bottom 10% of earners are 20 times more likely to be in prison [in the United States]” than children born into higher income families. Many of the guys I did time with lived on little to nothing precisely because their families had nothing to give. They “hustled” — sewing together old shoes and boxers, fixing AM/FM radios, making other guys’ bunks — for the extra meals they needed to maintain. Or else, they received $50 or $60 by some stroke of luck every few months.
Still, they went to bed hungry on a regular basis. So did I.
Consider this small commissary meal in terms of the new prices. It’s the most common supplement to the “diet” allotted by Aramark and was my go-to when I needed something extra to fill up: one ramen noodle soup ($1.06), a pouch of tuna ($2.81), a bag of potato chips for flavor ($.58), and two mayonnaise packets ($.24).
Total cost: $4.69.
On my $100 budget, that would mean enough for around 22 extra meals a month — I’d only missed one every five days or so.
Not so bad, right?
But wait: I wanted soap that, unlike the state issue, actually foams — add $1.80 for two bars a month; and toothpaste that actually prevents cavities — at least $8 for two tubes a month; and I needed deodorant (the state doesn’t provide it at all) which is at least another $2 a month; and finally, batteries for my digital radio cost at least $3 a month.
I needed sunscreen because I was constantly outside (most inmates are; the rec yard is mandatory in many Florida prisons) — add $4.30 for a tiny tube every month; and paper ($2.46 for a pack); and stamps ($3.30 for five letters); and Heaven forbid I wanted a cup of coffee here and there. Add another $7 a month for a small bag of off-brand Joe.
My $100 quickly became $70 — or enough for an extra meal about every two days.
I only went to bed hungry every other night.
The facts don’t lie, nor do the numbers. Inmates need commissary to survive, and Keefe knows it. But this is no excuse for such blatantly opportunistic pricing.
A boycott is the only answer. Inmates must cease all commissary purchases statewide. At the same time, family members must suspend all deposits to the inmate trust funds that finance commissary purchases. This way, where inmates cannot boycott — out of desperation or worse — the message can still be delivered loud and clear, and Keefe will have no choice but to lower prices.
Michael Anguille has a bachelor’s degree in journalism and was the managing editor of Florida Atlantic University’s student newspaper, the University Press. He currently lives in Coral Springs.
