 How did the Block O guards feel about their position?
He was a captain of guards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known to its inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scent of trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived to reach his captaincy. And, what was more important, why she couldn't adjust herself to it, now that she was in. The block guard, Sodaro, growled warningly: "Watch it, auntie!" It said in the Civil Service Guide to Prison Administration : "Detainees will be permitted to speak in their own behalf in disciplinary proceedings." From the born mechanic and the man with the gift of gab, society evolved to the point of smaller contact and less communication between the specializations, until now they could understand each other on only the most basic physical necessities—and not even always then. The ultimate should be the complete segregation of each specialization—social and genetic measures to make them breed true, because the unspecialized man is an uncivilized man, or at any rate he does not advance civilization. And letting the specializations mix would produce genetic undesirables: clerk-laborer or Professional-GI misfits, for example, being only half specialized, would be good at no specialization. It was a perfectly good civil-service position—better than post-office clerk, not as good as Congressman, but a job you could be proud to hold. He was civil-service born and bred, and naturally he was proud and content to do a good, clean civil-service job. He nodded to the mechanic inmate who was, theoretically, in charge of maintaining the prison's car pool, just inside the gate. Every prison has its Greensleeves—sometimes they are called by different names. When you're in it, you don't much care what it is called; it is a place for punishment. Block O in Estates-General Correctional Institution was the disciplinary block, and because of the green straitjackets its inhabitants wore, it was called the Greensleeves. She was in a detachment of three unfortunates like herself, convoyed by an irritable guard, climbing the steel steps toward Block O from the floor below, when she heard the yelling. "Owoo-o-o," screamed Sauer from one end of the cell block and "Yow-w-w!" shrieked Flock at the other. The inside deck guard of Block O looked nervously at the outside deck guard. The outside guard looked impassively back—after all, he was on the outside.
 that it wasn't worth it to stay in the job
 that they could have far worse jobs if they quit  that it was a fitting position for people like them  that it wasn't worth it to stay in the job  honored to be given that role