One of Five.

Last evening I began my week of work. For most people, I can imagine that the idea of starting five consecutive days of work is reasonably standard. They get up early to beat traffic or workout, see their family and take the public transportation or drive in to start the day. Eight "paid" hours later they return to their homes after making a stop here and there. Sounds all to familiar in suburban districts throughout the United States. My week is quite a contrast.

First of all, I work the night shift. So while Joe America is getting up in the morning, sucking down his coffee and half-listening to the traffic report on the radio, I'm screaming past him doing 55mph in the opposite direction because my bed is calling me. He works the hours of labour: weekday eights. I work the hours of a laborer: weekend twelves. Joe gets the holidays off, no such luck in health care (but the time-and-a-half is only partial payback for missing family on Christmas day.)

All of this is hardly complaining though. I've enjoyed the weekend night works as they keep me from the large number of visitors and weekly workers who go mad on the weekend. I find that I spend less money during the week because of my work hours. My wife and I can enjoy dinners out on the weekdays knowing that the restaurant workers have another shift the next day, but we can stay up as late as we like (well trained to do so with the consistent 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shifts we both work.

Still the standard three shifts every weekend have given way to recent needs to cover extra shifts due to those out for vacations. No worries. I'll just take the money and run. I just hope to have a full day of rest after this stretch of work to enjoy it.