the last night shift after 16 years

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER how my first night shift went, who I was with, or if anything special happened. I only know, helped along by independent sources, that Obama and John Key were the main personalities in the political arena, and I was just happy to hold onto a job in New Zealand, never mind that shift work was part of the deal.

That was 15 plus-plus years ago. Plus-plus because I had to interrupt working because of a health scare (that was thankfully resolved), but resumed because I returned to the same industry and job. I actually never stopped working in a shift-work environment, not because I liked it, but because it was a good way to stay in New Zealand.

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Now, I know your attention span Precious Reader is precious, so I’ll get right back to the topic at hand. After more than a decade-and-a-half, I know all the tricks of staying awake and connected to your job, especially if it’s at night and more so when it’s for twelve hours.

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But I’m not doing any of that tonight.

Not only am I wide awake and probably will remain so till the last minute of night shift, I also want to do things the traditional way, meaning the proper way, out of respect for the night shift. Of course, no one will probably care, but there’s me, so I care, and I’ll do it the way I was taught, for the last time on nights.

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I spend a lot of the shift with my shift partner, who is also Filipino. With us is a trainee, who Kabayan is training to run the factory by himself, so we have a lot of time talk and reminisce. He has no doubt I’ve already found a job elsewhere (otherwise why would I be leaving?), the whys and hows of sticking, and leaving the job we’ve stayed with for so long. Like me, he has also been a “lifer” on the job, but unlike me, he is staying on for the ride till the end of the line.

Me, I’ve got a ways to go.

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Old habits die hard, so that by 12 midnight, we have gone our separate ways and chores. It’s a big factory, all of five levels of around 300 square meters each floor to cover, so we don’t see each other unless we congregate in the control room.

I decide to go around the site one last time. No, I’ll be going around a few more days, but this is the last time I’ll be seeing the grounds at night, under the full moon.

I spent maybe 85% of the last decade and a half in other factories, but they were very much like this one. So the machinery and lay-out of the place is no different where I spent so many cold, lonely nights by myself in a strange country I now call home.

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At 4am, when your spirits are lowest and you feel the whole world is asleep, a short spasm of impostor syndrome overtook me. What had I done half a lifetime here to deserve my lot in life? How well or badly had I worked, and was it something I would ever be proud of? Why was I here at all, so far from home?

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Ha ha ha Noel. So many have gone home, so many have called it a day. You’re here now, and that’s what counts.

As we said, old habits die hard. At the crack of dawn, I would be chasing the first bus home, and if I missed it, I would have to wait another 30 minutes.

Shift Partner understood, and let me go home 15 minutes early.

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The eastern sun was peeping through the orange horizon as I clanged through the rusty gates.

Thus ended the last night shift of 16 years.

Thanks for reading Precious Reader!