Come back around

Return To Work Interview - A semi-formal affair involving the sickee (myself) and a supervisor of highly regarded professionalism and staunch disposition, failing this I asked Briggsy (also a sickee).

MY Return to Work Interview - A semi-formal discussion about the merits I possess to do my job to the fullest of my ability and how to jazz up "makes the tea well" to stretch to fill a paragraph sized box.

During this semi-formal affair there were the comments "I can't put you have returned to a fit state to resume work as I don't think you've ever been fit to do this job." and "Do you feel this incident has affected you in any adverse way?... Milky?... Milky! Stop bouncing around on your chair and listen!"

The Early Bird... gets the heebie-jeebies

For me, one of the most enjoyable qualities about doing shift work is the ability to commute to and from work during the wet season. By this I mean, I'm not squished in amongst thousands of other wildebeest (people) attempting to cross the main artery of the Serengeti's water supply (the A3 at Tolworth) at the same time, of the same day, everyday, for the rest of my life.

There is something quite pleasurable about travelling to work in the teeniest weeniest hours of the day, when the local winged wildlife is still discussing whether or not it's another solar eclipse or the sun is finally beginning to emerge on the horizon. The wind hasn't woken up and the rain is still falling in the other hemisphere. Although, there's a presence still around, for short periods of time at least, it's nice to presume a greater importance within yourself than when you disappear back into the end of a queue of traffic or are jostled away from the entrance to the train.

I'm not one for mornings, unless I've been awake since it was previously referred to as evening. But this, folks, is the reason I don't grudgingly drag myself from a warm bed, looking world weary and like I should be finishing work and not starting it.

Plus there's the added bonus of being able to break the speed limit and bend certain rules of the road (which is something I can't often do in the career path I've... forget that last bit).

Where was I, ah yes, as you no doubt appreciate now, early starts at work don't faze me. And due to the local council's splendid ingenuity I'm also able to enjoy a half mile wander to work. Owing to the fact that terrorists may at some point wish to blow up any part of Kingston with a car bomb. Hence the need for restricted/residents parking all over the place.

However, the walk is exercise, to some degree. Although not taxing, one can zigzag up the road to burn a few more calories but it's not always advisable at certain times as local residents do have a penchant for peering through their net curtains and reaching for the phone to call for pest control.

During my walk I utilise the current technological brilliance that is my MP3 player. Having recently danced gracefully around the copyright of most of the albums I own, I have been able to fashion a collection in my image (or at least one that loosely reflects my CD collection at home, minus the 5ive album that I only bought the case of).

As you can imagine I donned my headphones and leapt from my car, and begun my haphazard aforementioned zigzag to work with a spring in my step. Before hastily returning to my car to collect my required uniform, and to actually lock the doors as well. I resumed with gusto and relaxed into my 3.7 mph slouching stride.

Now usually, a colleague also blessed with the same intricate knowledge of our working environment as I, will drive past or happen to be already walking to work. As a result, a light hearted chat will often follow regarding the continuing strife in Israel, a brief reflection on how the recent Tsunami may affect the algae research currently underway in Antarctica and how much sleep we've both had.

This morning this did not happen. There was no-one. Constant checks over my shoulder confirmed this. My walk to work was colleague free.

Now in a "normal" job or 9 to 5 as some call them this wouldn't be of concern, because the other hundred people around you confirm that the world is still maintaining a degree of routine. On shifts, at 05:48 (that's AM) the backs of your ears start sweating. Mild panic sets in as you turn corner after corner with still no trace of a familiar face. You then start attempting to recall if you ever actually saw any other traffic on the way in. By this point your toes are getting twitchy and whistling to yourself seems to add a sense of security.

Your mind steps aside and the imagination back flips into life with
"Milky did the clocks go back?"
"Milky, you know you said you didn't believe in aliens..."
"Milky, have you actually woken up yet or is this that dream where you sleep with..."

And so on...

I reached my HQ and entered via an elaborate system of a plastic card and a painfully slow mechanical gate. Still no sign of life. "Sh1t, what day is it? Do I still work here? What was that film with the... Shaun of the Dead? No you muppet the other one... 28 Days Later? Yes that's it... oh bum, how'd you kill a zombie again..."

I enter the HQ main building through the security filters and start heading towards the changing rooms where I usually don my outfit for the days work. Still not a sausage; or a person in fact.

Then as I opened the changing room door there was my confirmation that everything was alright. Never will I say again that I have been so grateful to see Derv stood one legged leaning against his locker half doubled over attempting to pull his leg from a pair of leather trousers whilst stating "Ah, Milky! There you are, welcome back."

It's going to be okay.

The Zombies'll have to go past him to get to me! :)