As I’m writing this sentence, I still have three more hours to go before I can finally go home. It’s 3:00 in the morning here in Ortigas.
It’s my first night ever as a lucky, employed guy on a night shift. This is the joker card that I lay on the table in this poker game with the devil of global recession. I couldn’t do night shifts before but I’m doing them now. Yeah, f*ck recession. Here’s my card. Read it: “night shift.”
One can’t be too choosy nowadays — or nowanights. It seems that the company can’t get day shift clients for me, so they sent me to the dark. Now I’m on the dark side, the shadows, the eerie, scary, bone-chilling graveyard shift.
Forgive the flowery language. It’s the only thing that my mind can manage at this level of sleep deprivation. This shift is hard. My body is only supporting my soup-like brain because I’m energized by an unworldly fuel of mush. If not for these transcendental feelings of lightness and optimism, my face would now be scraping this greasy keyboard.
The keyboard’s greasy because my mouth is automatically gorging on PeeWee, an all-Filipino junkfood. Went to the bathroom two hours ago and noticed that my left eye was already bloodshot. My thoughts are as sharp as a chubby chin and my body feels like Baguio beans. I don’t even know what that means. Who cares? I’m a sleepy bastard on a night shift.
Did you know that it’s both acceptable to type night shift and nightshift? Bet you didn’t.
Do you know that you’ll also go on night shift if it means that you’ll probably get promoted and earn a much higher salary? I bet you do.
This body is but a tool to make itself survive. It will choose to punish itself if it means it’ll have something in its hungry belly tomorrow morning. Night shift is nothing because I need money. I can’t allow myself to become a part of the mass of people roaming jobless on the face of the earth. There’s no doubt now that this is a dog-eat-dog world. I’ll be living on my own carcass in the near future, feeding on my fluid-drained, double-dead, tired meat. Blunt eh? Told you my mind is as sharp as a chubby chin. Whatever.
If I pass the day-time client’s interview tonight, then I’ll be writing resumes for people I don’t know. That, by the way, means big bucks.
The client hasn’t yet replied to my e-mail as the hour comes to a close, however. This could mean that I’ll be back to being a normal daytime wanderer soon. Of course, that would also mean I’ll be jobless. I’ll be hunting for jobs again, figuring out how to send people to school, how to maintain the KFC fries addiction, and how to support my money-munching romantic relationship (all romantic relationships are money-munching).
Too many possibilities. My soup-like brain can’t process them.
It’s 3:50. Cocks are crowing in our backyard. Gotta get up and eat lunch.