Sitting on my sofa after a hard Monday back at work I listened to where Mr. Warehouse would be placed tomorrow by a new agency he had signed up with. Carefully hearing all the important information I asked what the plan was for dinner as I had a driving lesson and needed to know what time he was due to be back.
"Oh. I didn't ask that one?" My dear boyfriend replied. After explaining why it was important that before any job role he knows the exact details about where he was working, when the shift started and ended as well as what he was doing and how much he was being paid, I jokingly exclaimed that I would see him at 10pm. How very different I would feel in less than twenty-four-hours time.
The following morning our little household was woken up bright and early and as I saw Mr. Warehouse off to work as a warehouse operative at a homeware distribution centre on the outskirts of town, I got myself ready. Checking my phone after taking the dog for her morning walk I was pleased to hear that my other-half had got to work OK and with a few minutes to spare before his shift started at half-seven in the morning, he took the time to speak with some new colleagues. Enquiring about the job itself and how people enjoyed it they exclaimed and laughed at him that he should probably sack it in now as the days are long and hard with no-one leaving until everything is done. One man even described how the evening before was a twelve-hour long shift. I laughed in reply and Mr. Warehouse had stood by his comments the night before stating that he shouldn't be there more than eight-hours and that he would see me at four-thirty when he finished.
As the day went by and my mind was occupied by engineers, new jobs and workloads to manage it soon arrived to lunch-time but as I sat in the canteen, I got a message saying that it might be nearer to six or seven in the evening than four in the afternoon. Not worried I told him that it was his fault and not to complain because he should have asked the agency what the working shift pattern was before taking the job offer in the first place. Either way he would still be home before me for my driving lesson was booked until 7pm.
But as I sat watching the darkness descend slowly outside our patio doors, I wondered about where my other-half was. Mr. Warehouse and I had not spoken since lunchtime and that was well over six-hours ago. Anxious although not panicked yet the phone rang. It was Momma Warehouse and she sounded distraught.
"Is he there with you?" She asked frantic. I replied no.
"When was the last time you heard from him?" came the next question which again I could only answer vaguely. After explaining she had been trying to get hold of him all evening I said that there was probably nothing to worry about and that he would probably be walking through the door any moment. But as I hung up the call I realised it was already coming up to 8pm and I suddenly started to worry. As the next hour ticked by I still had no responses from my calls, texts and messages. I was very concerned now. Thinking the worst I messaged Miss Tweedle-Dumb who called Mr. Warehouse in vain whilst I tried to get in touch with Mr. CWG - Mr. Creepy Warehouse Guy. When I heard that he also had not heard from him since that afternoon I really started to panic. My boyfriend messages Mr. CWG more than me so for him not to have heard anything either was a worry. Thoughts racing through my mind I began to cry. Hot tears rolling down my cheeks I ended my call to Mr. CWG and made my final move before calling the police.
Dialling the Agencies out of hours number I prayed that they picked up and when they did I went on a ramble explaining to the young girl that answered that my partner had not come home from work and that this now was over thirteen-hours since he left the house. Understanding my concerns to some extent she explained rather pathetically how the establishment where he was placed do "occasionally" work overtime, however this was option and every employee had the right to refuse. This was strange and didn't sound right. What was I to do? Was my boyfriend still at work? Did he feel so bad about letting me down last week he has worked these extra hours to make up for lost money? Has he just done this all out of spite because I pushed him so hard to find something rather than nothing? Had he left work and in an attempt to save money walked home and had an asthma attack and was in hospital? Or even worse - A ditch? I needed to know so I asked the young girl on the end of the phone to please check where her employees were and when they would be home for people were worried sick about them.
Aggressively hanging up the phone I called Mr. Warehouse's mobile in the hope he would answer but I knew he would not. It was ringing so I knew it hadn't died or otherwise it would gone straight to voice-mail. Miss Tweedle-Dumb had also tried as had my dad, Momma Warehouse, Mr. CWG and all of Mr. Warehouses cousins and family. We were all very concerned. 10pm came and went and as I started to think what my next move would be and which one of the many pictures I would be releasing to the press and Crimewatch, the phone rang. It was the Agency. She explained to me that my partner had stayed extra to help with the workload and that he was definitely still working in the warehouse. I asked her if she thought it was appropriate that someone was working over fourteen-hours on their first day of work and whether this was common practise. She couldn't answer. I should not have been surprised when she could not even answer me when he would be home, only explaining that it was "extremely rare that the company was working this late and that normally al the guys were at home by now" however this did not provide comfort to my already trembling self.
Another hour passed before I had a phone call explaining that Mr. Warehouse would be home soon. How soon is soon though I asked and before I had a chance for her to answer Miss. Tweedle-Dumb called explaining that she had just spoken with Mr. Warehouse and that he was going to be calling me very, very shortly. After a fifteen-hour shift I finally answered a call from Mr. Warehouse. Grabbing the dog I ran out into the street to meet him. The buses had stopped running hours ago and so a supervisor had given him a lift. 'And I should think so too - It was the absolute very least they could do!' I thought to myself as I held him underneath a lamppost in what seemed like the dead of night.
Stepping into the flat examined my exhausted and broken man. I began to cry and with all the stress and hardship that we had been through reattaching itself to my shoulders I began to wonder what would happen to us next. Shattered I warmed up his evening meal and we began to speak slowly of the evening we had both encountered. Mr. Warehouse explained that after working all day it was outlined by his supervisor that the work needed to be done and that an overtime rate would be paid for any hours done extra. It was made very clear to the workers that these overtime hours were not as extra and optional, but almost as standard and critical if you wanted to keep your job. In the whole fifteen-hour day Mr. Warehouse had done he had only barely had an hour-and-ten-minutes break time. This coupled with the fact that I only sent him to work with a small packed lunch consisting of a roll, packet of crisps and a chocolate biscuit and no breakfast made for some truly appalling bedtime story especially when you hear of there being no on-site facilities to get extra food for the long shifts ahead.
After all that the Agency called the following morning after I had left and spoke asked Mr. Warehouse why he was not at work for he should have been there from 07.30am. Shocked and outraged my beloved boyfriend explained the night he had and after exclaiming the fact that he did not return home until nearly midnight, he was due at least an eleven-hour rest period between shifts as a government standard by law. Saying nothing the Agency said they would speak to him later but with the respect of another never-ending shift ahead of him Mr. Warehouse called them back to explain he would not be returning. The Agency laid him off that assignment and by the end of the day had found him something new to start. A rolling contract day-by-day at a steelworks literally round the corner from his old workplace and my desk was just what he needed. With shifts from 8am until 4.30pm and a super early finish at lunchtime on a Friday it finally seemed as though thing were looking up for us. He went to work on his first day Thursday last week and has been there ever since, even helping out to do some "opted into" overtime on Friday afternoon. I just hope that this becomes a bit more permanent in the future.
This break away to my Auntie and Uncles one-hundred-year-old cottage in southern Ireland couldn't have come at a better time and with all the mounting stress of money, bills and upcoming events to pay out for I am glad for the relaxing atmosphere. Rolling hills, fresh country air and nothing to do but feeding animals is just what the doctor ordered. However in recent conversation, Mr. Warehouse has told me that apparently his supervisor had ridiculed me for calling so many times and had mentioned something that I would be angry when my boyfriend returned home. Well sir, if you are reading of which you probably are not as you are dictating work to already burned out but desperate people, you are whom I am angry with. You are wrong in what you are doing, both by the laws of this land but also morally. I would like to know what drug you are on for I cannot see how you can sleep at night preying on the vulnerable of society in order to gain a wealth of profits and turnover for your fat cats up there in the office. I hope to god that you have to suffer what everyone under your leadership suffers and that one day Karma will come and get you. She has your number sir, she's coming for you!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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