Oh What a Beautiful Morning; Oh What a Beautiful Day

Anyone who knows me certainly knows I’m not a morning person. Morning to me begins somewhere around 10 a.m. and night ends around 1 a.m. I’m a night owl by birth, often forcing myself to go to bed by midnight on a “school” night. It’s just the way I’ve always been. I compulsively and repetitively hit the snooze button every working morning, annoying the ever-living crap out of hubby. Of course, strangely, I can nearly spring out of bed early on the weekend, ready to suck all I can out of my day off. On a week day, however, it’s as if a boulder is sitting on my chest.

So imagine my surprise (and boiling blood pressure) when my boss told me I had start a new shift daily at 7 a.m. – quite the jump on my usual 10:30 a.m. sheriff’s office briefing - in the spirit of online journalism and our new venture, the continuous news desk, or CND, as we cleverly like to call it.

Truth be told, said boss wasn’t the first person to tell me of my new hours. Earlier that day I heard it through a friend who was flabbergasted that I hadn’t been told yet. Well such is my life at a metro paper. Anyway, after my temper tantrum and a week to stew, the early bird shift started Monday. Crusty eyed and hair soaked, I began my day’s work at the absurd hour, awaking before the sun. On my first day making early cop call the first dispatcher I spoke with seemed confused when I asked what was going on. “Everyone’s just waking up,” he said. Excellent point, by the way. Oh Wise Management please take note.

One thing I can’t complain about, though, is getting home early. Before, it was a rare day I got out by 7 p.m. and 8 p.m. or later weren’t unusual. Now, I’ve been getting out between 4 and 4:30 but I expect some glorious days I’ll get out by 3 p.m. I must say it’s a different world out there getting out the door in the late afternoon.

I must say I have learned some interesting things with these new hours for sure. On Monday, I went straight to Publix, our local grocery store, and to the deli counter where there were a few women ahead of me. Every time someone ordered something new, the deli workers offered to give them the first cuts as a little snackie cake. Now, I know this isn’t an usual practice but here’s what was a little odd: It was TWO FREE slices of each item. And every time a woman took the freebies they said the same thing: “I’m so hungry. I didn’t each lunch today.” Except for me. I had eaten lunch, wasn’t really hungry and still took the maple ham anyway. (Exhibit A: My expanding ass.) Then there was sharing. It seemed every lady was staring at the other’s luncheon meat or cheese as the samples were handed over the counter. My deli gal said she (meaning the chick next to me) could try MY ham. So I asked, not wanting to look like the bad guy. She politely declined. Phew, I thought. But then she said, “I had no idea they gave these out. My husband always does the shopping.” “Now you know why,” I told her.

A few minutes later, another lady was eyeballing my Boars Head Baby Swiss sample. “Ohhh. What is that?” she cooed. “Baby Swiss. It’s delicious. Here, try a piece,” I told her extending my hand. She hesitated, still eyeing my cheese. “It’s OK,” I told her. “Go ahead.” She walked over and started to tear a piece of my untouched top piece of cheese. “No.” I said. “Take the whole piece. There’s another one underneath.” She smiled and took it and started nibbling. “This is good,” she said, making assorted faces you make when something tickles your taste buds. “This is sooooo good,” she said at least two more times. “It is!” I said, popping another piece into my mouth.

Then I looked over at the bakery where a Publix employee was mixing up some sort of dessert, dishing it out into little mini plastic cups and passing those out. I think it might’ve even had ice cream in it. (Still, I resisted.) Across from her, another gal was cooking up a delectable-smelling chicken entrée of some sort and passing those samples out. (Again, miraculously, I resisted.) It was a virtual buffet. For Free. At the your local Publix. I thought, man, I’ve got to plan this right and I’ll get a free meal, plus dessert on a regular basis. So, every night I’m gonna head over there around 4:30 p.m. Maybe I’ll meet my deli gals at the counter and they’ll share new tastes with me, sort of cultural exchange and a lesson in sharing. I’m sure this is just one of the perks of being on the CND. That and maybe blogging again.