Late Night Confessions by the Fluorescent Light

We have a 24-hour supermarket near our house called Neighbourhood 24/7. I’d always wondered what kind of customers frequent a 24-hour supermarket late at night.

After months of unemployment, in a moment of desperation, I applied for a job at Neighbourhood 24/7. I had made it to my first official shift, the overnight shift, from 7 p.m. to 4 a.m. I was about to find out exactly what went on here after dark.

I used to work as an insurance claims assessor. After seven years of ripping people off during their worst moments, I woke up one day and just couldn’t do it anymore. I knew if I denied just one more person the money they deserved at a time when they needed it the most, I’d never sleep again.

I arrived through the customer entrance and was instantly hit by the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting. Easy listening music played over the speaker system. As I made my way to the back of the store toward the break room, I caught the sweet aroma of fruit from the produce department. After putting my bag away in my locker, I clocked on via the finger scanner at the door and headed out onto the supermarket floor.

I proceeded to the service desk to let Irene know I’d arrived. I’d met her during my orientation training. She was a hardworking woman in her 40s with two children. Her husband worked by day as a teacher, and in the evenings, Irene worked the night shift on the service desk at Neighbourhood 24/7, 7 p.m. to 4 a.m., after which she’d quickly drive home and squeeze in a few hours’ sleep before her children woke.

The other staff member working tonight was Clive, the security guard. I didn’t really know anything about him, but he’d stopped by during orientation and asked me to be a second pair of eyes while I worked. The store was quite big, and Clive wouldn’t be able to monitor the entire store without some help.

I was hired to work in nightfill, but was also asked to help Irene on the service desk if the store got busy. Somehow, I doubted that would happen, but I would cover her when it was time for her to take her break regardless.

I said hello to Irene and continued on to Aisle One where I knew my first pallet would be waiting to be unpacked.

Aisle One was near the store entrance. A large pallet stood at the end, stacked with several smaller boxes of cereal and long-life milk.

I started unpacking boxes and was off in my own world when a sudden giggle brought me back. Our first customers had arrived. They were a group of four teenagers, probably about sixteen years old. They were all dressed in jeans and dark hoodies, and each wore a backpack. My first instinct was to alert Clive, but then I remembered what it’s like to be young and judged just for wearing a backpack in a shop. I decided to follow them closely and keep an eye out, just in case.

They made their way to the confectionery aisle, talking and laughing loudly while debating what treats to buy.

“How much do you think we need?” asked one kid.

“I can eat a whole block of chocolate to myself,” said another.

“Yeah, I can tell by the look of you,” joked the third.

“We can’t forget Mike asked us to get him a surprise treat,” said the first kid.

“Yeah, I was thinking we get him a tin of cat food.”

“Does he even have a cat?”

“No, that’s why it’s so funny!”

They all started laughing and joking around as they headed to the pet food aisle. I decided they were harmless, just a group of kids preparing for a movie night with an imaginary cat. I went back to work.

As I was unpacking a box of milk, the low hum of the freezers at the end of the aisle caught my attention, and my mind drifted. I thought to myself, This isn’t so bad. Decent pay, easy work, and no life-altering decisions to make.

I finished up in the cereal aisle and moved on to Aisle Two: the baby section. I quickly learned it takes longer than it looks. Inside all of these big boxes were smaller boxes of little baby items, dummies, bottles, wipes, everything was so tiny!

While I was in the middle of unpacking what felt like a never-ending box of baby food pouches, I noticed a new customer had arrived. A woman with a newborn in one of those front-facing baby carriers was standing in the middle of the aisle. She looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She couldn’t stop yawning. She was staring at the formula tins. She’d pick one up, put it back down, and then pick it up again. I noticed she was close to tears, and her baby was stirring and fussing in the carrier.

I approached her and asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

“I need baby formula,” she said. “But there are so many options, I don’t know what to do.”

I immediately went into a silent panic because I knew nothing about babies, let alone what formula to feed them. I could see this poor lady was having a rough night, and she just needed someone to make the decision for her.

Stalling for time, I started asking her questions about her baby and I learned that she had only just come home from the hospital that afternoon. She looked embarrassed as she confessed that the baby was having trouble latching and she just needed to feed her so they could all get some sleep.

As we talked, I scanned the shelves and noticed that the formula came in stages based on the baby’s age. I found the newborn tins, and then I discovered they come in different varieties: cow’s milk, goat’s milk or soy-based. I asked her if the baby had any known allergies.

I picked a tin of formula off the shelf and handed it to her. “Based on what you’ve told me, this is the best option.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and took the tin from me with a smile. “Thank you so much, I had no idea what to do.”

She rushed off to the checkout to pay for her formula and, hopefully, get some much-needed sleep.

I went back to unpacking my boxes, feeling pretty pleased with myself. What I’d just done seemed simple to me, yet to that woman, I’d lifted a huge weight off her shoulders.

I hadn’t realised Clive was standing at the end of the aisle, watching us. He wandered over with a smirk on his face.

“What was her problem?” he said.

“Oh, she’s just having a tough night with her baby,” I replied. “But I think it will be okay now.”

“What are you, a crisis counsellor or something?”

He saw the look on my face and added, “Good work though. I wouldn’t know anything about baby formula.” And just like that, he was on his way back down the aisle.

A few hours passed. I got into the steady rhythm of slicing open a box, unpacking it, and breaking it down for recycling. A few more customers came in as I worked. Some seemed to be enjoying the solitude of shopping after hours; others were just satisfying late-night cravings.

After my lunch break, I wandered up to the service desk to cover Irene’s break. She said it had been fairly quiet, standard for a night shift. I was nervous about my first time working on the checkout, so I was relieved that no customers came through while I was covering. About halfway through Irene’s break, a young man wearing scrubs walked in, but he never came to the checkout.

Irene returned, and I got back to unpacking boxes. I was now in Aisle Five: the personal care aisle. As I walked down the aisle, I came across the young man in scrubs who’d walked in earlier. He was standing in front of the body wash, just staring with a vacant expression on his face.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked up. “Umm… I’m not sure what I’m doing really.”

The man scratched his head and continued staring blankly at the body wash.

“Are you… looking for a body wash?”

“I left work, and I didn’t want to go home… so I ended up here.”

Now it was my turn to stare blankly at the man. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Luckily, he spoke first.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just come off my shift at the hospital. I’m a nurse, and I lost my first patient tonight, so I’m feeling a bit lost.”

We didn’t cover this at orientation, so I had to go off script.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She was an elderly lady. She had cancer. There wasn’t much I could do, but she asked me to try to contact her son who hadn’t spoken to her in years. I called his number, but he didn’t answer. When I went back to tell her… she’d already passed. I just wish I’d stayed with her instead of going to make the call. Then she wouldn’t have died alone.”

I thought responding to the man’s story would be difficult, but the words came easily.

“It sounds like you had a really tough night, but you can’t beat yourself up about it. You were just trying to carry out a dying woman’s final wishes. It’s not your fault the son didn’t answer.”

The man seemed a little relieved and just for a second, a tiny hint of a smile appeared on his face.

“I think what you’re looking for is in the freezer section.” I said pointing to the freezers at the back of the store.

“You need a tub of whatever your favourite ice cream is. Go home, eat some ice cream, and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be tough, but you’ll be able to look at the situation with a clear head. You’ll start to see you did all you could to help her.”

The man thanked me and headed toward the freezers.

And just like that, it was 3:55 a.m. and time for me to start packing away my equipment and head home. I gave Clive a nod as I made my way back to the breakroom.

I waved to Irene as I left the supermarket. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm as the chill of the early morning air hit my face. My footsteps echoed across the gravel of the empty carpark.

Despite the exhaustion, I was feeling surprisingly energised. I’d come to work expecting a boring night of unpacking boxes, and instead, I’d assisted two people by offering a friendly face and a helping hand just when they needed it most.

I could get used to this.

As I climbed into my car, I made a plan for the day: first, get some sleep, then start looking into what I needed to do to become a counsellor. I was sure I could find a course I could enrol in that would fit around my work at Neighbourhood 24/7.

And just like that, I felt like I had a purpose in life again.