No Windows On This Shift
Clock-in screen glows pale at the gate while the sky’s still holding a bit of dawn
Badge hits the reader
steel doors swallow me and then the outside’s gone
Inside it’s concrete, conveyors
forklifts whining down the aisles in tired loops
Supervisor with a tablet counting heads like we’re just parts in the troops
We stack and pull and scan and lift till people fade into barcodes in their heads
Only daylight in this building lives on safety posters taped above our beds.
No windows on this shift
just fluorescent hum and air as stale as last year’s fight
Break room has a painted sunset peeling off in strips that never felt quite right
They talk about “family” on the banner hanging over dock bay three
But if you miss one shift they’ll lock you out like you never held a key
Emergency exits marked in red down lanes blocked full of freight
We joke about a fire drill we know would come too late.
I’m a warehouse rat in a box with no sky
too many what-ifs in my chest, What if the pallet slips
what if this is it, what if I never get the rest
What if next year it’s a robot arm where my tired shoulders stand
What if the only thing they keep of me is my timecard in their hand.
Line lead barks the pick rates like a coach who never learned our faces
Says “you’re falling behind again” while my spine lights up in flames
Scanner strapped onto my wrist like a leash that tells me where to go
If I stop to stretch too long the numbers flash and let him know
We race down aisles like treadmills while the floor vibrates under feet
Whole life narrowed to a beeping gun and boxes labeled neat.
On lunch I sit on a busted pallet by a loading dock that never sees the day
Eat cold leftovers from a plastic tub
listen to the forklifts sway
Guy beside me says he dreams about a crash where everything just stops
No more pick lists, no more quotas
just the sound of silence in the shops, He laughs
then looks at his hands like he’s afraid they’ll disappear
Says “what if this place is all I am, ” half-joking
half sincere.
I’m a warehouse rat in a maze built tall
too many what-ifs in my mind
What if the doctor says “you’re done” before I find a different grind
What if one loose strap above me snaps and ends the climb
What if the only story left of me is “he showed up on time.”
At night I lie awake and picture storms tearing off this metal roof
Imagine sunlight flooding through where all this steel has been
What if I walk out mid-shift
leave the scanner on the floor
What if I text “I quit” and never badge this door
Then I think about the late rent slip, the kids’ shoes
the gas
All the invisible chains anchored in this pass.
Rumor hits the break room that the company’s testing new machines
Arms that never ache or argue
cameras that read our routines
They say it won’t affect “good workers
” but we’ve heard that line before
Every time they bring in something new
ten of us don’t see the door
I picture my station empty, monitor dark
my badge dead gray
Me standing on the outside glass watching someone else take my pay.
Shift whistle screams at quitting time like it’s mercy in a cheap disguise
We shuffle out past yellow lines with that same half-shut-down look in our eyes
Outside the sky’s already fading
I squint like I’ve been underground
Breath fogs in the parking lot
my knees complain with every pound
I sit behind the wheel a minute thinking how long I can stand this grind
Counting every what-if like a ledger at the back of my mind.
I’m a warehouse rat in a block with no sky
too many endings in my head, What if I break
what if I bolt, what if I wind up cold instead
What if one day I don’t turn in when the whistle starts to scream
Trade these aisles with no windows for one unfinished dream. I drive past the big gray walls and watch them shrink in the rearview glass
Tell myself “this job’s a chapter
not the whole damn mass, ” Maybe next year I’ll be gone
maybe I’ll still badge in at six
But I keep that one wild what-if close What if I finally walk and this place doesn’t stick.