Musings on...Cellular Rhythms and Circular Logic
When Work and Life Lose Their Balance
Welcome to a new installment of Adventures in Workland! This essay series was inspired by a frustrating attempt to condense decades of work experience to a one-page resume. I realized resumes are flat and lifeless representations of the vivid stories, relationships and lessons that make one a valuable part of the workforce. In this series, I will illuminate the staid bullet points and job descriptions, animating them into the full dimensional glory they deserve. I hope my stories will make you reflect and honor the value of your employment history as well. Algorithms, bots and job board filters have it wrong: You are more than the sum of your job descriptions.
I did a crazy thing once. I went against nature for a job. I should have known the power of timing and rhythm in life. I have gestated two children that exhibited very distinct circadian rhythms from the start.
My first born is a night owl and has been every day of her life. The signs were there even in utero. At the time, I worked a 9-5 and my husband was in manufacturing, often clocking in at 5 or 6 am. This child would move across my belly throughout the night. Her father would kiss me goodbye in the dark AM and lean in to touch my belly. Once he walked out the door, that baby would settle and barely move for the rest of the day. When she was born, she kept the same upside-down schedule. A little known fact is I love informercials and this infatuation is a direct result of our eldest child. She arrived home from the hospital with the schedule of a vampire, and I was her blurry-eyed familiar. She would come alive around 9pm and we would sit on the couch in the dark, her big brown eyes searching. I tried to match her rhythm, watching informercial after informercial, drawn in to the dramatic sales techniques and demonstrations. I put up a good fight. On his way to work in the morning, her father would find us on the couch, her cushioned under my arm, wide awake. I was barely holding on to consciousness. He would kiss us goodbye and darn it if that little girl didn’t fall asleep within 15 minutes of his departure, just as the sun cracked the sky. She has never deviated from this schedule, bed time was a constant fight, until she was big enough that I could retire to my room, knowing she would safely entertain herself until she was tired. She’s been putting me to sleep for years. I still wake up to her kissing me goodnight as she heads to bed.
Then I gave birth to an alarm clock. That is actually what I called him his first year of life-my alarm clock. His rhythm was clear in the womb as well. He was active all day, and as my pregnant belly grew, his movements would move the papers on my desk if I was close enough. After dinner, he became a little log right under my chest. My belly was still until early the next morning when he seemed invigorated by my morning routine of trying to drag his sister from her bed. He made his debut on a September morning at 4:45 am. The sky outside my maternity room window was an inky blue-black. This little one folded into our family with ease. He came with his own bedtime, naturally falling asleep at 7pm and sleeping through the night very quickly. This little guy was his father’s morning partner, getting a bottle before he went to work. Unfortunately for me, once his dad left, he wanted me to view the rising of the morning sun with him. As he got older, he would stand in his crib at 5am and yell “I’m ready”. When we planned vacations, he had a specific airport request: “Can we leave when it is still dark, mamma?”. The irony that my little guy likes to begin his adventures early is not lost on me: our family adventure with him began in the dark of the morning.
So, I was awake for 3 years, stuck between my two beautiful tyrants. Fighting one to get to sleep and hoping the other one would sleep in just once. I had a sincere conversation with God asking what I did to deserve this. I remember one day driving and thinking I shouldn’t be operating a motor vehicle. When I talk to new mothers, I try to encourage them as I’ve made it to the other side. Take heart my dear, you will have hot food and you will sleep through the night soon.
Our household remains divided. I am a natural morning person, always have been. I’m at peak performance in the morning and I love everything about it. I love the bright white light of the morning. I love all the morning smells: coffee, bacon and cut grass or still fallen leaves. In college, I scheduled only morning classes. My father noted that I could save him money on room and board if I would just commute home since all my classes ended by 11am.
Just for kicks and giggles, I married a night owl/morning bird hybrid. Actually, I think my husband exists through time. He can get up early AND stay up late, which is offensive to witness even after two decades together. He always asks me if I remember the first movie we saw together. The true answer is no I don’t remember many of the movies we’ve seen together, I fell asleep in most of them. Who STARTS watching a movie at 9pm? Our daughter calls him from college around 1am, just to talk. I wake up and ask him if she’s okay. Assured she’s fine, I roll over. I make her my last call of the morning, when I know she’s finally on the way to class.
This should have informed me that I should never, ever, never get a job working the overnight shift, but I ignored the obvious pattern. My family should have been the perfect case study that one can’t or shouldn’t try to alter the natural rhythm even for a paycheck, but I did. I attempted to fly too close to the sun. I ignored Icarus’s pattern as well.
I decided to get a part-time retail job for the Holiday season. It’s not my first rodeo in retail and I thought it might be fun. Christmas in retail is great if you like the holidays. I saw a posting for overnight stockers at a well-known big box retailer. In my sane mind, I thought I could work overnight, sleep a little and have the rest of my day to pursue some personal projects. Perhaps work on my writing, maybe redesign and update my book blog. I went in with good intentions and what I thought was a logical plan. Icarus and I must be cousins.
Within a week, Gloria Estefan became an earworm in my head: The rhythm is gonna get you.
And it got me. My personal circadian rhythm got me good. It kicked me in the neck like we were mortal enemies. What was I thinking? My report time was 10pm. I did not realize the implications of that in my original plan. I laughed at my parents for falling asleep in a chair around 9, but now the joke was on me. If I’m in motion, I can keep going, but IF I SIT STILL after 9pm, the next thing I do is wake up the next day.
The job was fine. I worked unloading the trucks, which was a new perspective for my knowledge of retail operations. I worked along a conveyor belt, dividing the boxes to go to their particular department. The trucks emptied, we were dispatched throughout the store to stock the shelves. It wasn’t hard work, but it wasn’t easy work either. These truckloads were huge, often taking us 2-3 hours to empty. The good news is I lost a few pandemic pounds because I spent hours moving and lifting and in case you were wondering, boxes of anything are heavy. Cat food, detergent, baby formula, canned goods. Everything is heavy after midnight. My body was growing stronger, but my mental well-being was becoming tenuous.
Going out to stock the floor was fun. I was the first to see the new merchandise on the shelves at one of your (and mine) favorite big box retailers. I’m not one to drop names, but it’s very bright and if you are into archery or shooting symbolism, you need only one guess. Okay, it rhymes with smarget. So, I enjoyed the assignment, and working the shift wasn’t a problem as long as I didn’t put my head down during ‘lunch’ at 2 or 3am. I was often assigned to the holiday section, which I loved. I have a slight obsessiveness with order, so I received much satisfaction organizing the shelves. We were allowed to have one earbud in, so I caught up on Yellowstone and explored many podcasts. Also, the overhead music played all night, and smarget’s playlist is a real vibe. There were many pros, but...
My rhythm wouldn’t give me a break. I would leave work at 6am, head home and try to sleep, but my body didn’t cooperate. My strained little arms and legs had earned rest, but I couldn’t sleep past 10am. I would bolt awake thinking “Girl, it’s 10 am, the day is almost over, get moving”, which is a natural reaction as I rarely sleep past 8:30am, but really??? Didn’t my rhythm understand that I was working a plan? No, my body did not understand, nor did it care. I would get up, manage my day and start to fall asleep just before my shift. I went on like that for weeks, but I never managed to sleep past noon. My sleep bank was depleted, my brain was foggy. I was slightly delirious, never quite sure what time it was. I asked everyone what their process was for working the night shift. They gave me great suggestions, and I tried them all, but none worked for me. I stopped at the gas station en route to work (the Starbucks was closed by then) for a shot of caffeine. The guys often let me have my coffee for free, the darkening circles under my eyes an indicator that I was losing the battle. I thank them for their pity and will not share the name of their employer. Those angels were doing the Lord’s work and trying to help a fellow late nighter.
Fatigue began to overwhelm me. I called in four times when I just couldn’t make my body go. It was a personal low. I have NEVER called in sick in my entire career. I had two children and only called in absent one time to care for one of them, not myself. When I was a waitress, I worked a few shifts fueled by Dayquil. That scene in The Wolf of Wall Street when he realized he did not drive home as well as he thought, makes me remember my shifts in an orange Dayquil haze. I THINK everyone got the correct food, but really, did they? The 4th time I called in was scary. I was about to eat before work, as I had been advised by my manager as a good technique to help my grogginess. Suddenly, I saw sparkles and fireworks and the vision in my left eye was completely obscured. I made my way to the couch, trying to calm myself. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. I prepared to instruct my son to call an ambulance. I needed to call my husband and tell him I loved him. I needed to give my daughter specific instructions on which dress I wanted for my viewing. If you’ve never had what you think is a near death experience, I'm here to tell you, you get very lucid very quickly. With my right eye, I googled my symptoms and discovered I was probably experiencing an ocular migraine. Okay, not a stroke, I wasn’t going to die. Would I need to wear an eye patch? Did I have enough personal style to make an eye patch an attractive accessory? Is there a line of stylish eye patches? Perhaps I could become an eye patch designer as a side hustle. I sat quietly for a while until the sparkles subsided a little more. After more one-eyed reading, I learned the main cause of this onset was lack of sleep. I called in absent again. My body was serious about having the last word.
Obviously, I didn’t die, but my ego was bruised, nonetheless. I have always taken pride in being a dependable employee, but nature was acting against my best efforts. I did take solace that I finished the season. Many people in my hiring class threw in the towel much earlier. I made it to the end, but barely. I determined that overnights are not for me. I assumed after my less than stellar record, I would never hear from the big box retailer again. I hoped they would not ban me altogether and still let me shop there. A month later, I received an email that they wanted to extend my employment, but change my status to on demand, or on call. I could work in multiple departments and pick up shifts whenever I wanted. I could learn new skills and for everyone’s sake, I could work in daylight. It took about 6 weeks, but my body and I got back in sync and are on better terms. So, take this as a cautionary tale: mind and body wellness are a real consideration in the workplace. Choose work that fits your well-being and fulfills every part of you, mentally and physically. Don’t make the mistake that I did. If you do remember, Gloria and I warned you: the rhythm is gonna get you.
Have you ever worked a job that wasn’t physically good for you?