May 25th, 2003

Enfieldean

I have no happy!

First of all, I shall note my sleep pattern isn't conventional. Given the hours I work and the fact I like time without other people awake, my sleep pattern recently has become 5 AM to noon. Seven hours of sleep gets me through the daynight, and to be honest, I enjoy the post-midnight time when everyone else in the house has gone to sleep and I can do whatever I fancy for a few hours without fear of someone trying to ask me to do silly chores.

Yesterday was a fairly unusual day in terms of work but otherwise normal. An eight hour shift instead of four hours, which was enjoyed, but otherwise I woke up around the usual time, I had my usual "Saturday indulgence" of a massive pizza from over the road when I got back from work and I fell asleep around the same time as usual, just as the sky outside begins to brighten to a shade of french blue.

I get woken up a few hours later from something ringing. A phone call? I must have been in a very light sleep to be woken up by that. I shrugged it off and looked at the clock. 8 AM? Quaint. I took a sip of something to get rid of the morning-breath and eventually began to slumber again.

Mum's talking to me now. I wake up a little. She's saying things but they're not getting through yet. It's just gone ten. Then I hear the problem - the manager has not gone down to open the shop and so the guy who was to work this morning (without keys to open the shop) has had to call me to see if I could come and open up. This is feasible, despite me being the furthest member of staff from the shop geographically with keys, and so I proceed to get up and get changed and washed and go to the shop.

On the way to the shop I wonder how I got up as rapidly as I did. There are two things I know I am not: a morning person and a person who likes surprises. And here I am, off to open up the shop for the first time whilst still feeling tired. Yes, it's just gone 10 AM and some of you will already be up. I still enjoy my sleep a great deal, though, and to have two hours of it stolen is something I am not fond of in the slightest.

And yes, as I woke up on the way to the shop I realised that yes, this was the first time I'd ever opened the shop. In fact, I'd never been told how to before, bar a code to turn off the alarm and stop the police coming to arrest me for breaking and entering. Still, that's better than nothing.

I get to the shop to see the keyless member of staff almost quaking in fear, though fortunately the atrocious weather had decided not to make him a victim for today. I explained I knew little of opening the shop but did manage to with success, doing everything I needed to. I begun to take down the large clumsy metal grilles (which seemed easier than usual to do today) and put them away. As I went to disappear, people began to come in, meaning I'd had to begin serving at the counter. Again, nothing difficult, but my mind was thinking "I'd not be up yet if I had my way," and also silently thinking how much fun it will be to start working again at two as I have to.

I called up the manager, who was meant to open up, and politely explained the situation. He forgot completely about his responsibility, thinking he could have a lie in today. He was quite a lucky sod too, because the owner of the shop could have popped in and if he'd seen the shop barely open an hour after it was meant to be, the manager of the shop would have no kneecaps left.

As I left to come home, the staff member noticed the feigned smile on my face (because there were customers around; the expression I would have wore (given the tiredness) would have been so sour it'd make Jack Dee look like a TV host for kids) and said "Cheer up, at least it's not raining."
And as I walked out of the shop, the heavens opened. "Bastard," I mumbled, putting the pathetically inadequate hood on my coat over my head.

So I waddled home, the rain curiosly stopping as I got here. Then my uncle pops up for a flying visit out of nowhere, asking where Mum is as I begin to walk up the steps to our flat. I suggest she's upstairs, given that she's still wheelchairbound at the moment. However, I was wrong. Mum had decided to skedaddle and there was I, looking like a bit of a fool. But anyway, that wasn't a problem, she's got a mobile phone! I go to call it, seeing I'm curious where she's gone. And a mobile phone in the kitchen rings.

Now, it is very difficult for me to fathom where a woman who cannot take more than three steps on one foot can manage to disappear to with no trace, but I bet she's just been dragged somewhere and decided not to mention it to me. Very good.

I realise that trying to catch up on the sleep is now nigh on impossible, uncle's been sitting around for a good few minutes waiting hopefully for her return and by now it's ten to twelve. He disappears and I start to type this day up so far. As I do, my alarm clock beeps, reminding me to get up now. Again, very good.

So I continue to type this up, just to get it vented out. My sister then appears out of nowhere, ringing the doorbell in a frenzy as she usually does. This time I did answer the door with the Jack Dee face. She zoomed past, closing programs so she could check for left hand drive vehicles on random motoring websites. If it wasn't for Semagic saving drafts every few seconds, I'd have lost a fair few minutes' worth of typing and would have probably stabbed conventiently-placed keys into my skull.

She disappeared as soon as she appeared, and so now I finish up the rest of this post. In writing this I've fundamentally made sure I keep myself awake pre-work, but likewise have prevented myself from having a bath as I planned to do this morning. Hohum, with all the beguiling visits and phone calls I'd have had no time to anyway.

Anyway, that's my angsting post of the week over with. Chances are I'll breeze through work, come back home, bathe and nap, and I'll be able to use a sob story with the manager to make sure I get paid (as well paid as someone on a minimum wage can, anyway) for his mistake.
  • Current Mood
    jaded
Enfieldean

Footnotes re: the last post.

1. Yes, amusingly written as it was, it was still an angst moment about a lack of sleep, when you read between the lines.

2. Things got better. Including the delightful quip from some young kid asking an old lady for his football back. When she said sure, he pointed out his shoe was also over there, probably. How that happened I'm not sure, but it's curious. I managed to get a few hours' pay for resolving the problem.

3. Yes, footnotes are usually meant to be at the bottom of a page, hence the foot- prefix. But shuddap already.