I was asked to contribute to this project as part of a class. Follow me below the fold and tell us what you believe.
Night shift came to me when I was nineteen stuck couch surfing in a small Oregon tourist town. Beautiful hills, quiet streets, and no work--even before the recession. I had two choices: hotels or restaurants. That summer, as many students competed for few jobs, I smiled enough during an interview at a manager who said he preferred to hire women as desk clerks because we didn’t argue, and kept a live camera feed of the desk to his out of state office. I began work on the Fourth of July and walked two miles while fireworks exploded above. This is how I would spend most of the next decade's holidays. Christmases were quiet, filled with "I'm so sorry you have to work today," from guests fleeing in-laws. When I moved to Portland, Oregon, I passed homeless people covered in newspaper, tucked into doorways between twinkling lights. The street urchins liked me because I knew the currencies of coffee and bathroom access. The club bouncers knew to look for me as I walked by flophouses and shops full of gentrified kitsch. In Columbus, I became that character in the grocery store with a cart of cat treats and cheap wine at eight in the morning. I rooted to the couch, in shock I'd moved 3000 miles with the clothes on my back and two bags. I didn't know anyone, but I knew my job. So, this I believe: even the greatest darkness is pierced by a solitary light.
Ten years of night brought wicked insomnia. I reasoned if I wasn't sleeping anyway, I should find a second job. I was tired, and not just of watching the cycle of caffeine and alcohol in guest’s bloodstreams. I interviewed with a local library system in a staff office with Wonder Woman and LOLCats on the walls. I was excited at the possibility of a job where the building closed and honored federal holidays. I didn’t know how it would change me. I also didn’t think I would get an offer, so I used the opportunity to geek out about a library internship I had in college. I never talked about it with friends, and somehow never made the connection that I should seek employment with libraries. So, this I believe: we need only remember the light in ourselves and others to find the way home again.
I called home and told them I had a job with the library. They smiled through the phone, like they knew all this time and forgot to tell me. I've held onto that job, kicking and screaming, sometimes not sleeping for thirty hour stretches and maintain an even keel in spite of everything that can happen in public service. So, this I believe: that education and access to information are the great levelers, that you can move beyond your station. I must believe, because the alternative is grim and there is much work to be done.