Returning to work after holidays often means finding out that in my absence the other guys managed to make ‘my’ machine malfunction in some novel way. This time, however, the surprise was something totally different – and ultimately pleasant.
Arriving as usual before six in the morning on Monday I was surprised, though not overly so, to be the first one present. By six, however, I was still alone. Our working hours being six to two fifteen, this was rather strange. Has the summer time ended already without my noticing it? Has the firm gone bust? Neither of these explanations seemed plausible, nor was there any message.
Anyway, at a quarter to seven my first workmate arrived and explained our working hours were moved to seven to three fifteen. Whatever the reason (there is an official version and a gossip, both of which seem equally probable), this news totally overshadowed any possible displeasure with nobody having let me know in advance. Getting up at a quarter past five is still an unearthly hour as far as I’m concerned, but significantly less so than the quarter past four I was used to up till now.
In short, since Tuesday I’ve been getting up, leaving my gaff and starting work in a more civilized way – more civilized by exactly one hour. Next weekend the idiotic summer time ends – another hour. I just hope they won’t push it back when working shifts becomes necessary again.