To Those Who Murder Sleep...

This Call-Out!

So, this morning, I was doing what tired shift workers do on Saturdays, if they can.  I was sleeping.  Dreaming peacefully of a place with shining blue waters tumbling gently over rocks, making a lovely sound just like that of my white-noise-spewing radio, when all of a sudden...

BLAM!  BLAM!  BLAM!  BLAM!  Rattling my storm door, accompanied by

DING-DONG!  DING-DONG!  DING-DONG!  Causing the cat to run and hide, an event I liken in frequency to an eclipse; and growl, which I have never heard him do before.  I looked at the clock.  11:33 AM.  WTF?  Are you serious right now?  Who dares invade the peace of a quiet suburban Saturday morning like this?  Is it an emergency the way the pounding and the three rapid-fire doorbell rings make it sound?

I looked outside to find a Window World truck parked in front of my driveway, four-way flashers blinking.  Are you kidding me???  People, people!!  During the early 90's I sold Avon, during which time I followed a handful of cardinal rules, a few of which were: NEVER go out to see your customers before noon, and always gently tap on the door no more than three times; ring the doorbell once.  Put your calling card in the door.  If they want your product or service, you'll hear from them.

There used to be such a thing as decency, by which I mean some kind of consideration for privacy, by which I mean the right to not be disturbed by other people.  Nowadays I think that if it were light enough to do it, there would be bozos outside at 10 PM, or conversely, 4 AM, mowing their lawns.

Of course, only relatively recently have we acquired a 24-hour society.  But somehow many of us still want to operate as if most of our world is still 9 to 5.

I became most acutely aware of this in 2006, after the current regime took over The Plaza and I accepted an overnight supervisor position, working five 10+ hour days a week, 10 PM-8 AM.  I attempted to sleep between noon and 8 PM; rarely did I achieve more than five hours of sleep a night.  Too many Post Office/UPS/Fed-Ex/salespeople ringing and knocking; family on the phone; lawn-mowing going on all hours.  And of course it had to be that year and no other that one of my neighbors had their driveway dug up and replaced, and another their sewer lines.  And for whatever reason, though they had a big, beautiful backyard to play in (that didn't face my house), yet another neighbor's four kids all had to play almost exclusively in the driveway that does face my house.

What to do?  Well, I did what I could.  My mother already knew We Do Not Wake A Sleeping Claudia.  The landline's ringer was turned off; the sound way down on the answering machine.  Family and friends were told the hours we could not be reached, and were good about complying for the most part.  A sign was posted on the door, which read, "Shift worker sleeping.  Do not disturb except in case of fire, local or national emergency".  This worked for a time, until some folks decided their employers' rules stated they HAD to knock or ring the doorbell.  At which time I smashed the doorbell cover in a psychotic rage.  (Do not do this.  Doorbell cover replacements are expensive!)  Then I simply disconnected the doorbell.

All to no avail.  I still rarely got more than five hours of sleep.  Consequently, I was chronically sleep-deprived and would fall asleep anywhere -- while reading, watching TV, and once, while parked in a Wal-Mart parking lot.  This is, unfortunately, the curse of the overnight employee.  No one was happier than me when The Plaza shut down for demolition and rebuilding on Labor Day, 2006.  My mother and I went out for breakfast to celebrate, and when we returned home, I slept.  And slept.  And slept.  20 out of my first 36 hours home.  And when I finally caught up on my sleep, I recovered my wits from the fog that had engulfed them.

Luckily, after The Plaza was rebuilt, it was decided that I would help keep order in the Coffee Paradise restaurant, in lieu of running shifts.  I returned to my old standby, the 3-11 shift, usually arriving home around 11:30, winding down and going to sleep around 4 or 5 AM.  A lot of people are surprised that I don't go home and go right to sleep, but that feels as unnatural as a day shift employee getting home at 5 or 6 PM, eating and going right to sleep.  Winding down is a must, and look at it this way: my being up late helps keep the neighborhood a little safer, because I hear everything.

My loved ones are pretty good about remembering my timetable, and contacting me accordingly.  And deliverers of packages generally no longer interfere with my sleep schedule.  My biggest impediments to a good night's sleep now are, in this order: menopausal insomnia; my cat, who gets lonely and will scratch my door so he can cuddle and sleep with me.  Or hunt and kill dust molecules in my bedroom.  You never can tell which.

Oh, yeah, and knuckleheads like Mr. Window World.