Tired of My Job

Shift work is like a never-ending cycle. Tonight, I caught myself daydreaming about mundane tasks during a crucial inventory check. I stared at the barcode scanner in my hand, wondering if this machine was programmed to pity me or laugh behind its glass casing. It's funny how something so small can become your silent judge and jury. The irony is, as I stand here feeling utterly worn out, another shift worker breezes through with a spring in their step. They're the type who seems energized by late-night chaos, and it makes me question whether I'm just not cut out for this life on the night shift.