It's not just a Latin phrase worn out by the goth/vampire culture in bold tattoos and midnight forum names. It's the philosophy by which the shift workers adhere passionately too. If we didn't, nobody would receive there midnight snacks of burgers and fries without the choice words of tired employees. No, we live by seizing the night. Literally. The smiles are plastered on, the voice kept as composed as possible when dealing with the oh-so-funny teenagers, and the food is served politely so we can pick up the hours that boost the coveted paycheck.
I think the story of the night shift is a great one. An epic tale in the making. One that I've submitted myself to, just to keep my bank account alive and to survive in a world made of money. I inadvertently became part of the story, so complex that it's simplicity amazes me. We are the barely making it crew. Its the the reality of Glorious Adulthood that shrouds the fresh faces entering early adulthood. A slap in the face really, when long hours of unappreciated work is shouldered.
So after one ass-kicking shift, I decided to write. Not a story per se but a documentary of my life at minimum wage.
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