As midnight strikes, more Americans head to work
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There are other drawbacks to night work, too. For companies, the addition of nocturnal employees can be costly. "Workers burn out, turnover goes up, morale goes down, and so does productivity," says Mr. O'Neill. The late shifts can cost companies more - up to $8,600 extra annually, per person, than day workers, and with an accident rate up to 20 percent higher.
And for the workers themselves, consequences range from foreign sleep patterns, to a higher risk of accidents, to declining health and, most poignantly, frayed relationships with those who spend their nights hugging a pillow alone.
Donna Pearce, a brassy night-shifter in a Harris Teeter grocery store in Raleigh, has seen the impact firsthand. "It can mess up a marriage right quick," she says, eating a "lunch" of canned hot dogs at 1:43 a.m.
Her colleague William Hall struggles to find time for his family. But on Saturday morning, after his shift, he took his two kids to see "Scooby Doo" and "Spider Man" - all before crashing at 2:30 p.m. "We're all having to adapt to a 24-7 world," he says.
Working at night can hit parents and children especially hard. "The future of the night-shift growth is disproportionately in the service sector, and these are often the kinds of jobs that women going from welfare to work are moving into. The question is, what happens to their children?" asks Harriet Presser, a sociologist at the University of Maryland-College Park and author of Working in a 24/7 Economy: Challenges for American families. "It's a silent issue," she says.
Still, more and more companies are making sure that if the day shift gets a party, so does the night shift, and a growing cadre of consultants are on hand to give advice about how to eat correctly at night (light snacks are best) and how to get a good day's sleep.
Despite a litany of complaints, from bosses' lack of attention to sleepless days, many find solace, even happiness, working under the stars. There are lots of things to like, says Mr. Hall, including not having a boss always breathing down your neck.
Coworker Barbara Keyes says it fits her schedule: Her oldest daughter watches the young one, and she can spend days with them or volunteer, as she does with the PTA.
Manoon Nayyaz, an immigrant from Pakistan who works with Hall and Ms. Keyes, often puts in two shifts a day, one of them at night. Taking a break on the stoop of the silent store, he says he likes the solitude. "If we didn't find ways to enjoy it, you couldn't call it a life," he philosophizes to a chorus of crickets.
Back at the BP, in the middle of the long stretch between 3 a.m. and 7 a.m., Brown finds another bonus: Weird stuff happens in the wee hours. There's a steady stream of red-eyed club-hoppers, and a man recently chased his girlfriend around the pumps with a hatchet (she escaped). Still, he's feeling the biological effects of a nocturnal life: "I'm totally sleep-deprived."
And it can only last so long. Six more months and he wants to move to the dayshift - and salvage his academic career.
Just then, the bell tinkles on the door and in walks Chris Dedousis, an N.C. State freshman who picks up a job application. "I'm up anyway, so I'll work the graveyard shift," he says. "Trust me, I need the cash."
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