You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The night shift.
It’s like punching your Visa and going to another country.
I haven’t left America, but some how I feel like I should be getting on a school bus full of chickens on a mountain road
It’s only a time shift of a few hours.
But a shift of a few hours is like a shift in the time / space continuum.
I half way expect to see Klingons and Vulcans having phaser battles in the newsroom now.
I’m working at the same place doing essentially the same thing, just a few hours later.
But it seems odd, wrong, disjointed.
It shouldn’t matter. It should be as noteworthy as going through a drive thru at Krispe Kreme on the other side of town.
Same donuts? Same building? Same unnecessary caloric intake right?
Wrong.
Something is definitely askew.
It’s like a counter top that is not level and your Faberge Eggs keep rolling off the side.
Nobody likes that.
The time I wake up is different. The morning is different. The way I work out, the way I eat, the way I do everything is just off.
Now I know what the guy wearing the aluminum hat fearing UFO abduction feels like.
Monday I started my new, permanent shift at night.
After 18 years of working 8-6 pm, producing stories for 4, 5, and 6, I am now the 10 pm guy.
It’s odd on almost every level.
I use to be the 1st day side reporter in the door.
I would talk to a 100 people on the phone getting over night news.
I would battle commuters putting on eye liner in the diamond lane.
I would walk in and see the morning people who have been here since 11 pm the night before.
It was my safety net.
There are the over night people I would think.
They were bleary eyed and wearing parkas and hats.
They are a disaster to look at.
They look like a pop tart left on the floor of a subway station.
They are the news zombies, working hours that a pan handling hobo wouldn’t keep.
But they were my morning cup of coffee.
Hey morning people I would always say.
They would look up and snarl like junk yard dogs eating spam.
Today I didn’t see any of these over night vagabonds.
Today I am on the night shift.
I walk in at 2pm.
The day shift people who are busy, almost unaware of me.
News being the voracious animal that it is, has devoured them, consumed them, turned them into frantic, pull out your hair, get it on the air, stress balls.
I am on the other end of that spectrum.
This morning I woke up and the urge to rush to get showered and dressed and out the door is replaced with the thought “Should I brew another pot of coffee?”
Brew another pot of coffee?
That’s crazy talk.
I was antsy. I wasn’t sure how to react, and what to do.
Years ago, when I was the messed up guy, I lost hundreds of contacts to inactivity.
I was a consumer oriented reporter, and the public was wearing me out with ideas, and I just stop calling many of my sources.
Over time they died, disappeared and retired.
So I wake up at 7 am and I do what I always do.
I text 75 people hello.
They like the texts. They often feed me news tips.
Even though I’m not due into the station for another 6 hours, I’m going to massage this news source for all it’s worth.
The afternoon drive in was odd. Normally at 1pm I am driving this road and I’m all abuzz with the story I am returning from.
Usually I am wondering how I will write the story, how I will edit the story, what time will it take to do all this. I’m on fire and I’m driving as if traffic laws do not apply.
This afternoon, it’s 1pm, and I’m driving on the same road to the station and it’s calm.
I look down.
Only 60 mph?
What’s my problem?
There is no traffic. There is no stress. It’s unusual.
I walk in and the people I use to see at 9 am are all hunched over their computers editing and writing.
I hear a few hellos and one “we missed you this morning”
By and large, my new shift is my new shift.
It’s as if I am gone. The daysiders don’t care about me.
I am gone. I am forgotten. They are their own universe of news gathering.
I sit down at the table with a group of co-workers I know, but rarely interact with.
They are night siders. I am now a night sider.
Night side is not day side.
Day side is not Night side.
It’s like Oklahoma is not Texas. They are both United States, but both couldn’t be more different.
The night siders seem excited to have me.
Why not, I have a lot of good stories up my sleeve and I start dealing them out.
The night side changes are not over whelming when considered one by one.
But there are so many of them.
Lunch is now dinner. Dinner is now lunch.
After school activities are for other dads.
I don’t get home till 10:30 or later. Do I go to sleep, or do I stay up and watch risqué HBO movies?
And night side hours aren’t exactly relationship friendly. Do I find a call girl? Do I just take a cold shower?
Nightside?
It’s going to be an adjustment.
I’m just going to give it all I can.
I will enjoy the nights, and perhaps, do something with my days, which really are my days now.
Shift Change.
Same day. Completely different world.
Life’s Crazy™