Don’t you just love when you get a call last minute about having to work on the weekend? And to work through the night on the weekend? That’s even better. I love those calls. Love. Them.

Piss. Piss. Piss. I have to work this weekend starting at 2am until 7am because that’s the only time that we can get inside the subway tunnels (the trains aren’t running and we have to be at track level), all to check and see if anything is different then it was before construction started adjacent to the tunnel. Very interesting work, yes. But at 2am? Nah.

Though this happens very rarely now, since I am more of a 7 - 4 (yes, not 9 - 5 - how’d I get screwed in that deal anyways?) worker, WITH WEEKENDS OFF, it really sucks when I get The Call. It throws off my entire weekend since Carter’s usually bright eyed and ready to go as I am pulling in the driveway from a night’s work. Only one thing was shitter then this; getting called into work when I was a teenager and a college student. Those were good times.

I think that’s why I hate The Call so much. Remember how much of a damper it puts on plans with your friends? Everything’s set and you’re ready to get your drink on and all of a sudden, work needs you. Can’t say no because you need the money so bad, right? Why with all that bar hopping and socialization, can’t do it with no funds. Or worse? Having a scheduled shift the morning after some heavy partying; at 5am, pissed drunk, adamant that you’re going to be up and ready to go at 8am.

During college I worked in retail, at a chain clothing store (clothing store chain?) for about 30 hrs a week - nearly full time since student loans were insufficient (read: not enough to support my partying ways as well as pay for school) my second year. It was a mediocre job, nothing to it and it was money in my pocket as well as a clothing discount - can’t go wrong there.

To be honest, I can’t believe I actually lasted as long as I did. I was probably one of the worst employees there (though I could sell you a paper bag if I tried). All the other kids were high school students and I was The College Student. I set a great example for those children, their parents should be proud.

If I came into work on a Saturday I was hungover more often then not, sometimes un-showered with too much perfume masking the stench of stale cigarette smoke, mascara smeared under my eyes and ratty hair hauled back into a messy bun. I. was. hot.
Sometimes getting to work was a small feat on it’s own. They probably thought I was the worst cook ev-ah after I seemingly had food poisoning *wink, wink* about once a month. Those were actually the days that I spent most of the time visiting my porcelain friend. I can honestly say I don’t miss that porcelain guy, since I’ve upgraded to cars and public washrooms.

To live that lifestyle today would be utter torture for me. Now? To stay up sober past 10 o’clock is challenging enough, throw a couple beers into the mix and I’m a complete write off. Good Times.

As parents how do you find the shift work treating you? Is it really as hard as it seems to be for me? Or am I a complete whimp?