Night shift. For some a catchy “earworm,” by The Commodores. Others prefer the word without the “f” in it. I myself didn’t really mind it. My attitude: “We are where we are,” to quite a colleague of mine. To quote someone else:
When life throws lemons at you, make lemonade.
In the early 2000’s I used to work night shifts. Some of my colleagues used to really suffer, ending up all red-eyed and dreaming of bed. I never got to that stage. Well, maybe once.
Opposite my office was a hotel, frequented by businessmen. I use the word advisedly on International Women’s Day. The clientele was 99% business.
Imagine the scene. You’ve finished all the overnight reports by midnight. You’ve seen tonight’s video at least three times. You’ve browsed all the websites you can think of. You watch the occupant of room 701 in the hotel come to his window in his underpants, scratching his… head.
Grab that phone. A quick check. Yes, that is room 701. Ring that number. It rings. Mr Businessman dashes from the window to phone.
Hello. Is that room 701?
Yes. What do you want?
Would you mind not standing at the window in your undies? It’s not a nice sight.
Mr Businessman slams phone down and rushes back to the window, his head turning round 180 degrees to see where the phone call came from. He gives up and closes his curtains. I could almost hear the “swish…”
Have a shifty day, won’t you!