It's 4am, Do You Know Where Your Shoes Are?

4am comes fast when you can’t fall asleep until after midnight. So long as I grab at least 2 hours I’m good. This morning waking up was difficult. I lay there with the muscle and joint aches I have become accustomed to, not wanting to move anything yet. 

This week between picking shoes and the cold my hands are screaming. A typical morning routine is stumble into the kitchen, down my arthritis and stomach medication, then a half cup of coffee. Why half?, because the reality is as you age you start to become a human water faucet. 

When I was younger I would fuss with clothing, my hair, and my general appearance readying for work. Now in my 60’s I can’t be bothered. I have clean clothes, I wash, pull my hair up in a messy bun, and I’m good to go. My only quirk in appearance is my eyebrow hair is going missing and each morning I have to fake them on using eyebrow powder. Makeup itself is just a no.

 I realized years ago adding powder or liquid face makeup to my age lines just makes them look more pronounced. I have tried everything. The truth is who am I putting makeup on for, myself or those around me? I don’t have time or energy for that sort of fussing around. If I look like the old girl I am and you don’t approve of it then get out of my way. 

 

The predawn drive is cold. My current car has the luxury of an auto start I have grown to love. The car was purchased used years ago and the former owner installed it thank you very much!  I just point my key fob at the car through the window and push the button.

 It’s 9 degrees Fahrenheit this morning with a wind chill. My husband puts a brave face on and out the door we go arm in arm bundled up ready to catch each other should one slip on the ice (again). 

 I like the dark seasonal winter drive. There is always little traffic and it’s peaceful. We always go in early to better prepare before shift the start. When we arrive there is usually a line of semi trucks waiting for the distribution center to open. I respect the hard work and long hours these truckers do. 

Once in the warehouse I go in one direction and my husband in another. We will meet up at break later or lunch. It’s not unusual for multiple extended family members to work in the center, especially during holiday season. 

Though I normally work in e-commerce packing items to ship, sometimes my department load will lessen and I will switch to picking. Picking and packing is demanding work. There are three floors plus, and thousands of retail items to be picked during a shift. I learned picking years ago during the Covid mess.

At that time I had worked at a large food store deli for years. When Covid began workers in retail food stores jumped ship after hours were cut and protocols were in place. To supplement less hours and pay I took on “temp work” at my husband’s company, eventually staying for good.

 

 It’s not the worst job by far, but the warehouse lifting, climbing, and constant walking are a challenge for a person with physical limitations. My mindset is similar to my husband’s, you just do it and get through it. Embedded in the company is a temp agency that brings in many immigrant laborers. 

The majority are hard working, many are women more so than men. They also do not speak much English if any, and I’m curious how that works being hired. Some of the best workers I have encountered here are from other countries. 

 The mechanics of the large plant fascinate me to watch. I’ve always been a bit of a geek and interested in how things work. The process of how the goods originate and end up on a retail shelf in the stores is actually interesting. 

 

Everywhere around you above and below are constant moving machinery parts all day and night. I never gave a thought when shopping in a shoe and clothing store the whole process of how things came to be there. It’s taught me to appreciate people and what we have access to having experienced the process.

Working alongside such a diverse culture of individuals from other countries has taught me much about their life and who they are. As children in school we might be taught about foreign countries but only in brief. Though we are all different, we are very much the same I learned. 

 

Side by side we may not all speak the same language but we find other ways to communicate. More importantly, we have a laugh. Sometimes we also have a cry. What we see and hear on television or social media are others opinions and views, good and bad. I try to judge less, and try to understand more. 

Sitting in the lunchroom we are all just people with one goal; to get through today and earn enough to survive life. 

 

 

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