The five-minute warning bell has sounded, urging us all to our workstations. I, reluctant to begin my shift, trudge to my post hoping against hope that tonight will be better. I won t hold my breath though, the company feels ten hours without oxygen will impair my productivity.
Tonight begins, no different than any other night.
I get to work, clock in, and walk to the rear end of nowhere to sit, or stand if I like, and operate the most damnable piece of machinery ever put together with a screw. This machine is located in the darkest, most isolated corner of the building. I can t even begin to imagine what horrible things I must have done in a past life to deserve being exiled in such a manner. I have no one to talk with, no one to sing with, and no one to laugh with. The other employees on second shift are on the other side of the building.