Working the graveyard shift

I've worked all three shifts over the years. Was not surpised to learn that some studies suggest rotating shifts harder on mind and body than steadily one shift.

In the late 60s i worked 3rd shift (9pm to 6 a.m.)at a bank in lower Manhattan. For 2-3 months in early 1970 i also worked a noon to 8p.m. shift at a census bureau office in midtown. On weekdays i'd sleep 4 hrs between the two jobs. Ended up with "Walking pneumonia".

My Doctor's office was in my neighborhood. He gave an Rx, instructions to pick up it and groceries and stay home for at least three days.He threatened to call my Mom (emergency contact) and get me hospitalized if he saw me out and about sooner.

Then in the Honolulu around 1972 i worked 2nd shift at main processing office for Hawaii National Bank. Started at 3p.m. could leave when everything from all branches (the ones from other islands in chain were flown in) was processed. As a salaried employee this gave me a few short nights a month without reducing my pay. But on military paydays (last of month), especially if fell on a Friday, the volume of work was MUCH larger.

Knowing we'd be there till at least 2 or 3a.m. the next day we'd take our full hour meal break around 7p.m., going to a different Downtown restaurant each month. And Honolulu, back then at least, had a wide range of world cuisines to choose from. Since much of the month we finished work in 5 hrs, we were able to afford the better places that once a month.

If the planes were delayed on a high volume night and we'd be there till almost or even dawn. Usually a couple of us would go for breakfast at some 24 hour place like Denny's. Sometimes i'd change clothes when got home and cross the road to swim in the ocean before showering and going sleep. But i was young and childless then, so i had fewer restraints.
 
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Twice in my life. (not counting military life) ;). First was back in high school.
Went to school 7-3. After school, worked 4-12 at a local plastics factory, then, home and slept til 6:30 and start again.

Second time was more involved:
I had sold my house in San Diego and bought a fixer in the Imperial valley. Still working for Case equipment in San Diego, I worked 4- 10 hour days. Start at 5pm, finish at 3am.
Just me out in the field service truck fixing and servicing the equipment while it was shut down. It was just me and one guy who ran the parts dept. Slept at the parts guy's place except for the fourth day when I'd head for the desert.

I rode my motorcycle from San Diego, (sea level), up over the mountain, (5-6 thousand ft), to our new home in the desert, (below sea level), and worked on the new (to us) house for those 3 day's. Mind you, this was in the winter and it would be 70's-80's in San Diego, but cold and usually snowing in the mountain, then down to the desert floor where temps where 90's to 100.

Always glad to reach the final turn coming down the mountain, (devils canyon),
where that hot dry desert air would hit me in the face.
 
After leaving the Navy we moved to Puerto Rico. I had a few miserable low paying no benefit jobs until I got a job working for the U S post office. Started dayshift but was bumped to 3rd. shift by more senior employee.

Pay & benefits were good but a horrible way to live with young kids. Sleep during the day only possible by having a 12,000 btu a/c for the bedroom. Had a serious conversation with my wife about quitting She said if we can make it here we can make it back in the states. Sold our home & used that money to start life again in the states. She was right.
 
My longest shift while I was with Metro Toronto Ambulance was 19 hours long. It was supposed to be 12 hours long, but the Alice Cooper riot at the Canadian National Exhibition stadium happened and the whole place was in turmoil. The Alice Cooper band bus was searched at the Canadian border point at Fort Erie, and the Canadian customs officers found a significant amount of drugs in the bus.

The Alice Cooper concert was scheduled to go on at 9 pm, but the band and all of their equipment was stuck at the border. The opening acts played extended sets until the final announcement was made around 10.30 pm. No Show. I was working a 11 am to 11 pm overtime shift inside the CNE stadium. The massive crowd started destroying the place, and things quickly got out of control. Thousands of drunk/high kids were throwing the metal chairs at the cops, and fighting with each other, too.

Police re-enforcements starting arriving from all over the city. The riot spread from the CNE stadium to the rest of the fairgrounds. Dozens of people were injured, and the Ambulance crews were overwhelmed by the large numbers of injured people. I finally got home at 6.30 AM.

JIMB>
 
JustDave said:
You gotta wonder sometimes, who come up with these kinds of schedules?
Click to expand...
I mentioned my cousin's husband several posts ago. He was a career firefighter. Hospitals, EMTs, law enforcement, etc are all 24/7, and Americans have gotten accustomed to the convenience of being able to buy an energy drink or grab a burger anytime of the day and night.

You know that, of course, and it makes sense with emergency services, but your comment made me think about how crazy it is that Americans don't stop to think about the people who lose sleep so that we can run into a 7-11 and heat up a bowl of nachos at 3am if we want to.
 
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I worked from 5 pm to 5 am, 5 nights a week, as a waitress at a huge diner. The people who came in were mainly regulars. The bosses were great. It was all good. I made friends there, too. My best friend, whom I had met at college, would come in and chat people up, too. It was a friendly place.

I met my first trans person there. He was a guy, and for some reason after my friend and I got to know him, he felt safe to tell us his plans. He had top work done first (pills, I presume). I was a little put out because I'm thinking that if that is so easy, why do people get plastic surgery? Forget the implants, swallow a pill! Of course, the guy didn't know this until after I found out he was trans. I mentioned that I'd read a book by Christine Jorgensen when I was in junior high. It was all about her life during the process of transitioning. Christine Jorgensen - Wikipedia

This guy was going to Sweden -- or another Nordic country or Denmark- for the operations needed to complete his becoming female. Never saw him again.

PS I have my opinions on trans people, like most of us do. I respect anyone who is willing to undergo that transition, even though I don't understand it because I love being a woman. Even when I was a kid, I was thankful that I was a girl.

Anyhow, the other waitress on my shift was an older woman. Probably 40. We became good friends. We went to another place to eat breakfast when we got off work. Often we met an OTR trucker the other woman was friends with. He was super nice and a peaceful kind of guy. His name was Ernest. He remains the only guy I've ever met with that name, so he's special.

My boyfriend had gotten shot point blank at an armed robbery of his business. He was in ICU for around 2 mos. No visitors at night, which was why I got the night job. Also my previous day job had been costuming plays. OMG I hated that job. Everyone was so airy-fairy. I was like the only rational person there - or maybe the only practical person. I did not fit in with them, although we all got along. Come to think of it, I'm not totally sure that people who know me well would immediately think of rational or practical to describe me. OTOH, they wouldn't think of airy-fairy either. These co-workers were all aspiring actors -- I mean, they acted, but they wanted to do only that for a living.
 
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