They offered me an extra fifty cents an hour if I worked graveyard shift, and I told them no. I liked being around people, even if it meant having to actually do what I was paid to. Graveyard meant a lot of solitude, on your lonesome but for a voice on the other side of the radio, in an unnaturally empty mall. The sorts that ended up working the shift were the fuckups and the weirdos and the folks to whom an extra 20 bucks every paycheck made it worthwhile.
I got stuck working it a few times. Shift always had a high turnover. Folks would fall asleep on duty or steal something, or just quit when they went crazy from the monotony.
Graveyard shift wasn't a happy place to be.
I always smuggled a book with me when I worked, no matter the shift. Some trashy scifi novel most of the time. Something to read on the frequent snatches of break I took. Graves shift, book was even more important. On graves, a good book might be the only thing that kept you from going crazy from the boredom. Spent a week showing up to work at ten pm. Uniform pressed and perfect until the boss was gone and then it was pretty much casual night. Sitting in the security pickup, radio turned up and book in front of my face. Maybe a cigarette dangling out the window. Reading by the sterile light of parking structure lamps. Watching the traffic on the highway thin til you could have laid down in the middle of it at four am for a quick nap and never feel the breeze of a passing car.
Sitting around with TJ, smoking and bullshitting. Talking about his plans to join the Coast Guard (he'd never been on a boat) and my own dreams of being a cop (which, in retrospect, is even more ludicrous than TJ's armed service career). Breaking the rules by moving around as a pair. Company wanted us separate. Keep us apart to cover more ground. We said "fuck that" and moved as a pair when we could.
He never mentioned his cousin. I never asked. TJ was a good Dude - he understood the Dudes code, and that some things just aren't for talking about.
Sitting in the parking lot at three AM in the pickup, reading. Radio beeps an alarm. Means a store alarms going off. TJ sends me over to take a look. Shattered glass on the sidewalk. Broken window behind the security fence. Teen aged assholes, not burglars. Sitting on the bench nearby reading and waiting for the cops to show up. Night guard for the Mervyns next door came out to shoot the shit and ask for a smoke. Cops showed up and I signed off on their report and it was back to the night.
Sitting in the lot, five AM. Watching the city wake up. IHOP across the street opens. Realize I forgot to eat for the last ten hours. Have a cigarette to take the edge off. Chase the homeless guy digging through the trash bins behind one of the restraunts. After he leaves I take a look at the mess and the smell makes me gag. He'd taken a shit back there before foraging for scraps. I call TJ and he leaves the poor bastards in housekeeping a note.
Six AM, and Carnell signs off on my log and me and TJ grab coffee and breakfast across the way. Waitress is bleary eyed. Suns just coming up when the pancakes show. Casts the whole world in yellow and red. It's going to be a beautiful day I think to myself, tucking into my short stack. Too bad I ain't gonna see it.
An hour later, I'm home. Sleep in my clothes. Don't even get my shoes off. I wake up at eight PM to the sounds of my room-mates partying, and I don't bother showering. I have a beer for my breakfast, and go to work.
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