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Co-worker "Emmy" rushes in the door around 8:20 at night, saying how she's sorry she's late, etc. The two of us on shift look at each other, and I pull out the schedule sheet. As Emmy begins unloading her reading material and snacks, I tell her that she's either very late for her seven AM shift or very early for the next day's eight AM shift. There followed some fascinating dialog which I would document here without fail, but for the fact that it was INSANELY confusing and I can only remember the gist of it. After no less than ten minutes of back and forth struggle, we get through to her that it is Friday night, eight PM. Not Saturday. Not Thursday, God help us. Certainly not morning. This is surprisingly hard to grasp, when one is completely convinced otherwise.
Here's the story, we think: There'd been some storms, Thursday night. One of these may've knocked out Emmy's clock, because her alarm never went off. Because of this, she slept ALL DAY (damn close to twenty hours, I suspect), and when she woke up a little after eight PM, she thought she was late for her morning shift. She also thought that there was a big storm building, and that's why it was so dark outside. Denial is a strong force.
She said, on her way out, that she was going back home, getting back in her jammies, and going back to bed.
Here's the story, we think: There'd been some storms, Thursday night. One of these may've knocked out Emmy's clock, because her alarm never went off. Because of this, she slept ALL DAY (damn close to twenty hours, I suspect), and when she woke up a little after eight PM, she thought she was late for her morning shift. She also thought that there was a big storm building, and that's why it was so dark outside. Denial is a strong force.
She said, on her way out, that she was going back home, getting back in her jammies, and going back to bed.
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