> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.blogforfuturehistorians.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Peasant's Diary — Entry #1073 - URL: https://www.blogforfuturehistorians.com/peasants-diary-entry-1073/ - Published: 2026-09-04T07:36:09.000Z - Updated: 2026-09-04T07:36:09.000Z - Description: Early rise, factory work, exhausting day, garbage pay. - Author: Materialist Big - Tags: Peasant's Diary #### On this page ## Dawn *May 20th 2025* ### Rise and Shine Alarm clock goes off at 5:30am. I could not sleep through, so I may have gotten 6-7 hours sleep total. Again. Seriously. No more than about 7 hours sleep. Likely closer to 6\. I cannot tell for sure, because my sleep is fragmented. (Nobody said insomnia is a nice thing to have) I get up and get dressed. My work clothes are on my chair, all ready and waiting for me. I make my way down the stairs, grab some meatballs and microwave them; I planned ahead and cooked them on Sunday, so now I've got some quick breakfast. Not much, but it beats going to work completely hungry. I still haven't got a bicycle, so I wait on my taxi to pick me up. It's meant to be there at 5:50am, and my shift starts at 6am. This way, I can get as much sleep as possible and still make it for my shift on time. I eat quickly — though microwaving my meatballs for 1 minute is too much; I have to wait for them to cool off first, and of course, remember to shorten my microwave time in future — and check my bag one last time. **All items are there:** - **Hi-vis —** check - **Noise cancelling headphones —** check - **Earplugs —** check - **Lunch —** check - **House keys —** check - **Phone —** check - **Winter hat —** check I think that's it. It's not meant to be raining today, but if it does, at least I've got my winter hat to keep my head safe from rain. (I can't really afford another hat, so the winter hat is the only protection I have, by the way) I check my phone; it's 5:48am, and my taxi is about to get here. *Damn! My gloves!* I check my bag again—I can't do any work at the factory without my work gloves (that I had to buy myself, by the way — 10 pairs that cost me £20). *They're there. In the small pocket.* Phew. I hope I haven't forgotten anything important. Let's go over it again: - **It's loud in there. I need something to protect my hearing —** I've got everything. Check; - **I need to protect my hands from cuts, burns, and rough edges —** I've got my gloves. Check; - **The shift ends at 3:15pm. I need some food —** I've got my lunch. Check. That should be everything. If I've forgotten anything else, at least it's not something essential that I absolutely need. ### Commute Taxi arrived. I get inside and greet the driver. It's the same guy that drove me yesterday. We recognize each other already. I am still a bit groggy — and underslept, I will probably not shake it off because chronic lack of sleep doesn't get better as the day progresses, unfortunately — but I look out of the window to get my eyes used to the light. I need to be alert at work — I need cash — and the few minutes of driving will hopefully do something to help me on that front. There's barely any cars on the streets. A few vans here and there, a few regular cars, but the roads are as good as empty. The main road seems sort of busy, but we pass it relatively quick. The rest of the way goes by in an instant. Finally, we arrive near the industrial part of town that I work at. **And the driver has no idea where I want to get off.** I tell the driver ahead of time that we're turning left next — because they never know where I need to be — and he drops me off at the front gate. I don't need him to drive into the car park; it's easier for me to step onto the grass by the main gate, put on my hi-vis, and then step onto the pavement from there; I hate manoeuvring around cars that are looking for a parking spot, so I always tell my drivers not to go there. So I pay my driver via card and step onto the verge. I get my hi-vis out and put it on. I need to be visible for cars driving around the site. Besides, it's the rules, so I put it on to signal that I am staff. People are already making their way into the factory — though there are at least two units, so everyone goes in different directions — and I join them. My unit is a bit further off the car park — maybe a minute's walk from the gate — and my shift is about to start. I push the front door open and hold it — some guys are walking behind me, so I wait a few seconds to let them through — and then make my way into the factory. **I am in.** --- ## At Work ### Early Morning I work at a doors and windows factory. The pay is kind of bad, but getting a different job was impossible, so I took whatever was available. It's a temporary position, although the managers at the factory are evidently hoping to retain everyone they hire. Whatever. I am at my workplace now, and I still need to do something before I start my shift. I walk around the premises to get to the cantina — because they eliminated the other one that was directly through the door, now I have to walk all the way around the ground floor to get to the second one — and finally get there after approx. 1 minute of walking. (Factories are big. Getting anywhere takes a bit of time, unfortunately) I get out my lunch — a can of meat and two small cartons of yoghurt + a little spoon — and put it in the staff fridge. The four items are packed in a plastic box. I close the fridge door and sit at a table nearby. I take off my backpack. I still need to get my stuff sorted: 1. My house keys go in my bag; I take them out of my trousers' pocket and put them in the bag's front pocket. 2. My phone goes in my bag too; I take it out of my other trousers' pocket and put it in the bag's secondary pocket. 3. I don't need my hi-vis anymore; I take it off and put it away in the main pocket. 4. I need a drink for my shift; I fish out a small empty bottle and fill it with some drinking water from the water cooler bottle that's in the cantina. 5. I need hearing protection right now; I take out the headphones and earplugs. Earplugs go in my pocket, and headphones directly over my ears; **And with that, I believe I'm ready to go.** (I am never sure that I haven't forgotten anything. But that should be it) I take my bag with me and make my way upstairs; they still haven't given me a locker, so I have to haul it everywhere. #### Factory Noise The main thing about factories: *they're noisy.* So much so, you cannot really work without hearing protection. And even that doesn't really do as much as you'd like. You cannot always hear other people, but you sure as hell can hear the machines, drills, welders, hammers, etc. They are excessively loud, and I honestly believe that even the best hearing protection can only delay your inevitable loss of hearing. It's a question of when, not if. (Hopefully another job comes up soon so I can go elsewhere) Oh, and the headphones I'm wearing right now? **They're fucking uncomfortable.** I paid £44 for them — 37dB earmuffs, 18 x 30 x 11cm — so they are doing their job. Shame I had to pay for this shit myself, but oh well. Paying to be able to work is the way the world works, unfortunately. So the headphones — or earmuffs, as they should be called, but I just call them headphones — are very tight. Not heavy, just incredibly tight. I cannot wear them for the entire 9-hour duration of my shift. This is why I got my earplugs with me — because at some point, I'm gonna take off the muffs and put on the earplugs instead. Earplugs are inferior because they cancel less noise, and because prolonged use causes ear infections. I clean them every day, but they're not something you should wear all the time anyway. Come to think of it, I will have to clean them at break just to be safe. So I wear one or the other, then swap. Occasionally, I will wear both at the same time if I really want to block out as much noise as I can. **It's not something I should have to worry about** — the working environment is extremely unsafe, as you can no doubt tell — **and I had to pay my own money to mitigate the risks I did not create.** Yeah, there's no way I'm staying here forever. But for now, I have to cope. Money doesn't grow on trees. (Unless you're the state, that is. You can print as much money as you like, so for you, money does in fact grow on trees) ### My Section — Ski Lift I don't know if that's the proper name for this section, but that's what everybody calls it, and the cableway sort of reminds you of a funitel, so let's settle for ski lift. Whatever the case: **I'm on ski lift.** It's a few minutes past 6am, but nobody really checks these things. I get to work. Right off the bat: **it's probably the most physically demanding part of the factory** — at least in my unit — and I'm guessing that this is why the factory bleeds staff. Every other section has long-term, qualified factory workers. It's only on ski lift that nobody wants to work. And I'm not surprised why, honestly. **There are many reasons why it's hard and why nobody wants this role:** - Crap pay (minimum wage) - Physically demanding - Targets - Rotation (lack of) - Revolving door - Noise - Long hours The only reason you would do this job is if you find it easy (nobody does), and you really need the money. I cannot think of any other reason. (Even construction work tends to be less physically demanding than my section. It's really hard...) No rational actor would do this job for free because it's downright awful, and the company is exploitative and unworthy of such sacrifice. ### My Day Begins I put on my work gloves. Got them. Alright, let's get to work. **Here's what my role entails:** Two people are needed on ski lift. One person sends door and window frames down the lift — as in, physically lifts them up and hooks them on the cable — while the other person runs around the factory, bringing the right door and window frames to person one. Some window frames are small, or even tiny. But they can also be huge — and heavy. (When I say huge and heavy, I mean up to 3 metres tall) Door frames are always heavy as shit. I have no idea how heavy, but I know it's quite a lot. Oh, and they're also wide and tall — so not only are they heavy, but also hard to grip and move. One misstep, and you lose your balance. Sliding double doors are the worst — because it's three heavy parts you have to carry, and the sliding part can be two metres tall and over three metres wide, so good luck with that on your own. (You occasionally have to deal with them on your own. They don't like you always stopping someone else to help you out because the managers miss their targets that way) Now, window sashes are usually on trolleys, so they're easy to move and sort out by number. Doors are on a sort of conveyor roller — which is very narrow, and its bottom and top are secured along the whole length to keep the doors from just falling off of it (or landing on your head). So when a door frame is ready — made by someone else, I am not sure how this process works exactly — they stick it on the roller track at the other end and push it hard to slide it my way. I have to find a way to grip it and carry it approx. 20 metres to the ski lift. Oh, and by the way? **You're not supposed to scrape them.** That actually damages the frames, especially the sliding ones, so you can't make it easy for yourself by just setting them on the floor and pushing them through. Nope, you have to carry them. **And, on an average day, you do approx. 100 doors and several hundred windows.** And this is a full-time job... 6am-3pm, five days a week, Monday-Friday. **You do this every day.** And the pay is £12.21. Can't say it's worth what it demands of you, but if you can't find another job? Oh well. It is what it is. ### Roll Up Your Sleeves I manoeuvre around countless trolleys full of frames. They are all mixed up, so matching the right frames with the right sashes is not easy. It probably takes around ten or more minutes just to sort them out and start sending anything down — because the night shift evidently didn't give a damn and just phoned it in. They were technically supposed to keep frames separated. For example: frames number 64 should be on the same trolley, frames number 65 should be on a different trolley, and so on. The night shift just didn't care and now one hundred or so frames are mixed up everywhere, on multiple different trolleys, and I have to figure it out. But unlike them, I cannot just send it all down without paying attention to what I'm doing; if I get it wrong, it's my fault and it causes the guys downstairs quite a ruckus. So I try to get it right. *Never mind. They want doors now.* I stop what I'm doing and make my way toward the door frames that are nicely lined up on the belt. I take them one at a time and bring them to my companion on ski lift. That said, I don't know how many doors they want. They just said they want doors. That's the extent of the instruction. They don't really have a procedure for when and how many door frames they want. There are times they want ten, there are times they want two. Sometimes, they want nothing at all for over an hour. Generally speaking, they want more windows than doors, but without a way to communicate with them (we don't get walkie-talkies), it's mostly guesswork and waiting for someone to come to me and tell me to send doors, or for someone from downstairs to shout (if they have the lungs to shout over all the noise) or use sign language by knocking on the air to let me know what they want. *So... I have to send them doors now. How many? Nobody knows. I guess I'll send them three for now and then send some windows again.* I carry the heavy frames one by one, eight frames in total. That makes up three complete doors. The ski lift has stopped, and I don't know what's happened. While I'm waiting, I go back to looking over the mixed up window frames and sashes to sort them out for later. I am already hot from all this carrying, and there's eight more hours to go. I didn't even rush, by the way. It's just a pretty hard job. I don't know how strong you have to be to be able to do this job comfortably five days a week. I am not a weakling myself; they wouldn't give me the job otherwise, would they? Never mind. I scan the frames before telling my companion they are good to go. I actually help him out by handing them directly to him so he can hook them up without walking down the ramp, fetching them himself, and then going back up the ramp to send more. It saves time, energy, and disorganization for everyone; he doesn't context switch, I empty the rack for myself for later, and managers have no reason to yap about delayed frames. If it makes sense, I do it. (Because I get paid) ### Morning Progresses *8am; The morning sun penetrates the windows 50 metres behind me, and pleasant rectangles of orange light fall on the floor.* (Which is lovely. Grey and white are not pleasant colours, and they're the only shades I see all day) A manager tells me and my companion that we will swap in one hour. Which brings me back to two of the points I brought up earlier about why nobody wants this role: *rotation* and *revolving door.* I started my assignment in April. I have done a few other jobs in the factory, and I am still sort of new on ski lift. But the other guy is brand new, and knows almost nothing about this place or the role. **This role is jinxed.** People come in for a while, do it badly, then leave and another green coolie replaces them. On and on it goes. Mistakes are aplenty. Delays are the norm. Managers breathe down your neck because their targets aren't being met — some arbitrary numbers that are optimistic about how the factory actually works and what is humanly possible. (That or they genuinely don't care about their workers and treat you as a resource to exploit) *So the manager tells us to swap in one hour.* He tells us that because, by law, we are meant to be rotated out of the physically demanding job and do something else. And when long-timers had to do it (when no one else was available, and I would just observe them from afar), they swapped every 3 hours so that nobody was on ski lift for the whole shift. But whenever they hire someone new, the green coolie typically does it non-stop, five days a week. (Or for the one or two days before he decides to quit) So now that they have the two guys they need, like me and my companion? Neither of us can catch a break; everybody else at the factory gets to do their own jobs, and we are stuck doing the same thing all day. *Technically*, we were rotated so that one of us operated the ski lift for 3 hours, then went on fetch and carry, then back on ski lift for another 3 hours. **But that's not a real rotation.** Both of these jobs are very hard, and it's the same exhausting position anyway. Every other job at the factory is precision, skill, inspection, etc, and in any case not as physically hard as this one. So: I would never be rotated out of ski lift to get a real break; I would be rotated within it, which is as good as no rotation at all. (But the company can claim they rotate their workers in line with safety regulations, so it's all well and good, am I right?) **Whatever the case, I go back to scanning the window frames and handing them over to the other guy.** He seems distracted and on his phone. Is he talking to someone? I think he might be. I have no idea how he is even able to communicate over all this noise, but whatever. I leave everything I have near him and go back to sorting out everything else. I am not going to police him because it's not my factory and his work ethic doesn't interest me very much. If he causes them delays, it's their problem to deal with. Not mine. *"Company interests are not my interests. They can get stuffed."* By the way, I am quite sure the other guys (and the manager nearby) can see what he's been doing, but they... don't say anything? Not a surprise. Nobody wants this role, and he is at least still here. They must have calculated that a mediocre guy who is there is better than an empty vacancy. So they'll tolerate it as long as he does the bare minimum, but don't expect him to surprise them. *9am on the horizon* I swap the guy and get in position on the landing. I drag the frames and doors along the walkway barrier on the other side (barrier that is separating me from the ski lift and preventing me from falling down to the ground floor) and lift them up. There is a way to hook them up well without scratching the frames; ~~frames need to face out, away from me, so they hook by their underside.~~ This also ensures they don't slide off the hook and fall off the lift. (I don't remember the names of these specific window parts. They are written all over the pin board, but the names elude me now) *No, wait! I messed up.* Frames need to face me! — because the hooks face away from me. So if you did it how I described, the frames would not stay on the hooks and would likely slide off on their way down. Damn. I actually got this one wrong earlier today, but realized it in time (because it looked wrong to me, and so I double checked) and turned them the right way before sending them forth. Green coolies make this mistake all the time, and I have nearly done the same thing. At least it wasn't a door frame — that would be impossible to take off and readjust. The centre of mass is way higher than I can grip from the landing, and if I try to lift it up, it will tilt forward; this rotational force is impossible to stop with your bare hands. The doors are just too heavy and too tall. *So that's what I do for the next 3 hours* Doors up, send down. Windows up, send down. Sashes up, send down. Over and over again. The other guy brings them to me and leaves them at the ramp (the one I'm standing on), or he leaves them in the storage rack next to my ramp so I can get them myself. If the guys downstairs want doors, I tell my companion to bring doors instead, which he hands over to me directly, or leans them against the tall safety rail behind me. I load up as much stuff as I can, then press the button to send it down. Another hook moves in position at around my height, and I load up the next batch of sashes, frames, and doors. This is what the job entails, pretty much. Not rocket science, just physically demanding; you are *constantly* picking up and carrying *heavy stuff*. I do this mechanically, and there's no time to stop and rest; my muscles are tired, I am hot, and I also didn't sleep properly last night. *Not fun.* ### Break Time *10am. I go down to the cantina fast.* I've only got twenty minutes before we go back to work, and I really want something to bite. Getting to and from the cantina alone takes 5 minutes total (2.5 minutes x 2), so unless I go now, I won't have time to eat. So I walk down the stairs, go around the whole factory floor, and push open the door. Nearly every table is occupied. I grab my can of meat, one yoghurt, and sit down to eat. I eat half of the meat (150 grams, not that I count my intake but just for the record) and finish the whole yoghurt (another 150 grams). I put the remaining half of the meat back in the box, throw away the empty yoghurt carton, and give my spoon a wash in the sink. I dry it with a paper towel (which we actually have today, lucky me) and put it all back in the fridge. **And just like that, it's 10:15am. I can rest for a few more minutes, but I have to get going very soon.** Finally, some people are reluctantly getting up to go back onto the loud floor. *Time I did the same.* ### Back To Work I leave my headphones on the chair beside me (there is one on the landing, though I rarely get the chance to sit on it), and I put my earplugs in for a change. I've mentioned that already, but factory noise is not just any noise; **we're talking about industrial-level noise pollution, second only to airports, I think.** 9 hours a day, five days a week. *Whatever. All hands on deck* I continue being a good boy and doing my job. The other guy is also doing his job, although he is clearly not putting in effort and is moving as slowly as he can get away with. **He probably doesn't want to be there.** (And by "probably" I mean: likely not at all) (And I don't blame him. I don't want to be there either) #### Shirkers At some point, the other guy comes to me and tells me he's going toilet. So I'm on my own for the next x or so minutes. If I cared about this job, I would start panicking and rushing like a maniac. But... no. I just work at my pace. So: I carry the doors by myself, and when I get them all, I send them down the ski lift. Then I go and get more. The guy left some window frames and sashes sorted correctly in the storage rack next to the lift, so I can get them going next. I scan a few to make sure the guy had actually scanned them — everybody forgets to scan them sometimes, or they can't be scanned immediately and then we forget to do it later — and when I see the message that says, "ALREADY SCANNED", I put the scanner away in my pocket and hook up the frames as before. (I should have asked him before he went off, but I forgot they needed to be scanned. I only remembered after he had already gone) *Ten minutes go by. The guy is still gone.* At one point, the manager asks me where the other mule is; there is meant to be two mules, and there is only me. I shrug because I don't know. I tell him he had gone to the toilet, but it beats me how long before he comes back. (And between me and this diary, I don't think it's a bad idea to minimize the value a job like that extracts from you. It doesn't pay you enough to demand your loyalty. The guy had the right idea) Someone else comes to cover for him while he is gone, and I am *indirectly* told to hurry up — something something "targets". Which brings me to the next segment... #### Targets *As if the job wasn't bad enough already...* But yeah, the factory has a certain number of doors and windows they want you to do every hour, and if you don't? You get a slave-master (some manager, there are many) cracking his whip and telling you to speed it up. (They sometimes assign a third person to help out, but not always) Some managers are all right. Others? Not so all right. Then there are those who are all right, but only as long as their day is going okay. So you get a variety of characters that are formally above you and can give you grief over some arbitrary numbers from above. Theoretically, nothing will happen to an average worker who is doing them a favour by even being there and doing a role nobody wants. But the managers get shit for not meeting targets, and these managers will push their frustrations downward onto you. Needless to say, **abuse is expected.** You might get lucky and avoid a bad manager, or you might get unlucky and get one that will tear you a new one. Luck or bad luck. You don't choose which one you get. The only way to avoid being told off is to destroy yourself working — but that's objectively insane, so I don't consider it a real choice. You work well, and you will be told off regardless. It's only a question of who tells you off — and how politely or aggressively. *Whatever the case* They know I can't meet their arbitrary targets on my own, so they send someone to help out. I can see on the screen hanging from the ceiling that "ski lift" is in red, which I suppose explains the manager's panic. A fresh guy takes over and tells me he will jump on ski lift. I don't argue; I watch him work, and not only is he faster, but he actually knows how to hook up more frames without everything sliding off of it — that is to say, *he can do the job better than me*. His way of working is very clever, actually. I should take notes. (I won't. I am not going to stay here for much longer anyway) I try not to be dead weight, but it's clear I am much slower than him. Or maybe he's just trying to catch up on their targets? I can't tell. *Honestly? I am just waiting for the day to end. I am not overextending. My pace is my pace, full stop.* Oh, look! The other guy is coming back. Although the way he moves, you'd think he was on a stroll and not at work, but whatever. Nobody tells him to hurry it up — which tells me they know they can't afford to lose him — and work around him to keep the area moving. #### Mistakes & Abuse Always new and incompetent people = No institutional knowledge (Like me) It's not a super complicated role, but you have to know how to read the numbers on window frames, how to hook everything on the lift so that it actually stays on the hooks, you sometimes have to stop and restart the lift, etc. And you have to do it reasonably fast unless you want people to complain, and you have to do it while surrounded by noise, tight corners, etc. Nobody bothers to write it all down or transfer knowledge properly. So... you get a revolving door of new hires who have no idea how to do this job, flail, leave or get pushed out, and are replaced by other incompetent hires. And the cycle continues. **Just today**, the guy didn't hook up a door frame properly on at least two occasions; on both, I heard a loud thud, a sliding sound, a moment of nothing, and then another loud thud on the ground floor, followed by a flashing red light at the ski lift (triggered by an object passing through an invisible no-entry barrier). *Fun*! Nothing really happened the first time. It's always funny when this happens. Makes the job feel interesting; you look over the railing, you see a door frame in pieces scattered all over the floor, and you can't help but smile. But the second time the guy let go of a door frame and let it fly downwards, a downstairs manager was walking by and saw this. He exploded and called him a "*fucking idiot*". He then complained angrily to another manager about it. *Wow. That was unnecessary.* *The guy is new... And it's just a doorframe. You'll get a replacement soon. What is this bloke's problem?* If this happens to me at any point, I don't think the job is worth it and I will bolt. (Hmmm, maybe I should hope this happens to me? I can record it and sue the company for damages, potentially. Can't hurt to try) So the manager tears my companion a new one, clearly overreacting, then scurries away and everyone returns to doing their jobs as if nothing really happened. A replacement frame is ordered and I bring it to my companion as soon as it's ready. **Then another mistake.** I kept bringing doors for the new guy to send down the lift. A few minutes earlier, the manager hanging around my section told me they'd just called him from downstairs and said they badly needed more doors. So I work like a good boy and send them doors. As ordered. *"Hmmm... that might be enough*", I thought to myself. Then again, the manager said they needed them *badly*. I'll send them some more just in case. Five minutes pass, and three people from downstairs appear out of nowhere and storm towards my companion at the ski lift to chew him out for sending them too many doors — apparently because they have nowhere to keep them. I mean it. He was *properly* chewed out. So much so, they angrily told him to get off the ski lift and do something else — because he was causing them too many problems. If anyone deserved to be chewed out, it was actually me. More than him, I think. (Or maybe they just don't like him? I can't inspect their neurons. But the simplest explanation is that they enjoy being abusive and look for excuses to chew people out. That is a distinct possibility with some of these characters, I think) Though if we're being perfectly honest, the system is to blame because you literally have no way of knowing how many doors they need. It's all done on an ad hoc basis, and we are simply expected to guess right. We get told off not for being lazy or anything like that, but simply for guessing wrong... It's not like anyone gives you a specific number. They rarely do. It's a complete mess, but the system never improves. The person nearest to the problem gets blamed. Every single time. And the problem persists indefinitely because the blame isn't placed where it belongs: on the systems. It's a fucked place. Pure and simple. ### Lunch Break *It's 12:55pm. Time for another meal.* Once more, I make my way down to the cantina. I eat my remaining food: half of the meat and another yoghurt. "*It's not much longer*", I thought to myself. I take the minute I have to rest up and remember that I am about to move house. That's going to be a chaotic couple of weeks. I also remember that I am in constant pain and I need a couple of surgeries. Nobody really gives a crap, so I will have to pay for them myself. Except I cannot just "pay for them myself" because I have to pay to work, my wages are awful, the work is ungrateful, there is no future in this place, the labour market isn't amazing... Will I ever be able to get my surgeries? Because the way things are going, that's never going to happen... *Almost 1:25pm. Time to go back to my post.* ### Nearly Finished Only an hour and a half to go. I am already used to the routine, so it doesn't feel terrible — though I am going to feel it once I get home. I always do. 9 hours of physical work does leave your muscles tired. I swapped at 12pm, so I'm on fetch and carry now, scanning the final window frames and kind of watching the clock. It's been a long day, I have another one tomorrow, and this job isn't paying me enough to stay any longer than I absolutely have to. 2:30pm. People around me are starting to slow down. I look over my shoulder: Quality control guy is sweeping the floor around his area, so we're nearly there. Some guys are drilling here and there. Some other guys are penning in window frames — as in, using lacquer pens to colour the weld groove that the welding machine melted, leaving window frames with white lines that need touch-ups —, and the noise from downstairs has gone down. Just a little longer. *3pm is upon me.* People are already packing up and making their way down. I don't think I can just abandon the ski lift because it's still in operation, unlike the other machines that can be left alone; if I worked on one of those, I'd probably already be out of here. Eventually, the ski lift goes off, the guy downstairs uses sign language to tell me we are done for today, I grab my stuff in a hurry, and just like that, I'm out of there. I go downstairs, set my bag down on a bench by the wall near the exit, and put away everything I don't need anymore. I also fish out my phone, home keys, and my debit card to pay for my bus. And with that... I'm off. --- ## After Work 3:15pm. I am free at last. The day is sunny and warm. Summer is just around the corner. (Only I have to do the same thing tomorrow... So no way I can enjoy the sun) ### Commute Home I make my way to a bus stop that's located approx. 12 minutes away from the factory. I genuinely don't feel like walking home because it would take at least an hour, and I have been on my feet for the last 9 hours, so... I'll pass. And I have to be in bed at 9pm anyway. So I'd rather take the bus and get home asap. I finally arrive at the stop at about 3:30pm. *Oh come on...* The bus was meant to be there in five minutes. And the screen tells me it's been delayed by twenty minutes. *Again.* Some flipping roadworks are in progress on one of the main roads up north. So... I guess they have something to do with it. **Whatever the case, I am stranded here. And I am not too keen on waiting.** But I have no choice. So I wait. ### Bus Shows Up At long last, the bus finally turns up at 3:45pm. I eagerly stand at the door, waiting for the passengers to get off first, then board it and pay £3 for the fare. *Yeah. Shame I have to spend so much money just to work at that place. What a joke...* It's also a shame the bus doesn't actually go anywhere near my home. I have to get off at a stop on the main road, then walk the rest of the way home — another 10 minutes of walking before I even open the front door. In the meantime, I wait patiently. The bus is going at 30mph — because cars can't travel any faster on this road — and it won't go any faster. That's approx. 5 or so minutes of travel time. I kind of look out of the window, but at this point, I'm not really registering the environment around me. Honestly, I'm just wanting to be home. Now. Why don't teleports exist? It would make my life so much easier. *The bus travels...* "*My stop is next. Time to press the button*", I thought to myself. I press the red button, and a red sign illuminates on the bus screen and makes a "ding" sound. I get my stuff and prepare to stand up and exit the bus. I get off. I walk the rest of the way. ### Back Home I turn the key in the lock and push the door open. I finally remove my shoes and work clothes. I grab my pyjamas in a hurry and step in the shower. *It's 4:30pm when I'm out of the shower. Damn.* Things dragged on at work. Now time is flying. (Why can't it be the opposite?) ### Dinner time! I haven't had the time to cook anything the previous day, so I'm going to improvize. In the fridge, I still have some chicken thighs in a box. I cooked them in the oven on Sunday, knowing I will need them for the rest of the week. I microwave two and decide to eat them with chips (french fries). I peel a few large British potatoes and cut them into chips. I throw them in the fryer and keep myself occupied while I wait. *5 minutes pass. I check. The chips need a shake. I give them one, then wait another two minutes.* *They look better now. The fryer goes off.* I serve the chips and two chickens in a big bowl — because plates feel too shallow, and I don't really like them very much. I grab a glass of milk to wash it down with and sit down to eat. Not the best food in the world, but time's a-wastin'. Besides, I have been losing weight throughout my tenure at the factory anyway, so it's not like it's going to make me fat or anything. Nah, it's all right. I've been a good mule and I'm hungry. Some chicken, milk, and fodder to keep me happy and my belly full is what a good pack mule like me deserves, am I right? *Damn, does it taste good after a day like that.* ### Relax It's past 5pm. Only three hours before I have to get ready for bed. I bought a massage gun a month ago; I use it on my muscles because I do quite a lot of physical work, and the last thing I need is injuries. So I use it preventively. And it feels good on tired muscles anyway, so no reason not to use it. *I am done.* I sit on my bed with my legs straight and lean against the headboard. I have been reading "*Harry Potter*", and I'm currently on book three. I don't always have the cognitive resources to read anything at all, even something as simple as *Harry Potter* — never mind why, too much to explain, but my job is one of those reasons — but today, I have enough energy to carry on with the story. ### Night Is Upon Me Damn. Time flies while you're doing something actually worth doing. Unlike when I'm working for an exploitative entity looking to run me into the ground and profit off my labour. *Rant over. Bedtime.* It's a few minutes past 8pm. I think I'll brush my teeth and make sure my earplugs are nice and clean. All good. Let's see what's next. Ahh yes. I need lunch for tomorrow. I don't want to accidentally go to work with no food at all (it's not fun when that happens), so I put a can of meat and two cartons of yoghurt in a clean box and leave it in the fridge. Ahh yes. Before I forget, put a spoon straight in the box and close the fridge again. That one time I went to work with all my food but no spoon to eat it with? Yeah, that was silly. So let's not forget the right tool for shovelling the food in my mouth. Okay... That's about it, is it not? I make my way back to my bedroom. My work clothes are on the chair — this way I won't need to scramble to find them tomorrow morning — and check that my alarm clock is set for the right time. *Oh shit. Taxi!* I won't make it to work without a lift. I quickly go online to book the same taxi as usual. I check... phew. I can still book one for 5:50am the next day. So I know I'll make it to work on time. Good. **And with that, I am ready for bed.** I shut the curtains, put my sleeping mask on, earplugs in, and lie down. As I'm lying there, I think about *resting.* Not sleeping — that never works. I specifically think about *resting*, because that usually helps me fall asleep better. "*Damn. It must be so cool to be rich*", I thought to myself. "*Harry Potter had 50,000 Galleons in his vault, he was set for life...*" — but before I can finish that thought, I drift off into slumber.