I quit

I was not fated to be among the elite who last for any length of time at the warehouse. The personal cost was too high. Although I got sufficiently adjusted to nocturnal life to be alert at work, I showed no signs of being able to function normally outside of work. If I wasn’t working or sleeping, I wished I were sleeping. Days off were mainly about recovering from days on. I found that although I was eating only two meals a day instead of my usual three (or even four), if I am not truly hungry but am unrested, sleep is the need that dogs me until I meet it.

I saw my wife and daughter briefly in the morning and evening on days I worked. On days off I saw them more but felt I had little energy to spare for them.

I knew the schedule was bad for me, but when my wife encouraged me to quit, despite the lack of a ready alternative, it became very clear that it was hard for her, too. Too hard. Like being a single parent living with a wraith who appeared once in a while.

So I gave notice at the shipping office and was told that I might as well make that night my last. I bade farewell to Mike and clocked out. If I could just get the company to send me the paycheck they owe me, I’d be done with the warehouse.

Now it looks like I’ll be hired at a box factory, on first shift, from 6 a.m. to 2:10 p.m.