I got fired again today. Tenth time, tenth same bullshit reason. "Sleeping on the job," like c'mon. I only took a little nap every now and then, every here and there. Sometimes for hours at a time but that didn't matter, I still clocked in and out like any good employee. I even set an alarm five minutes before 5:00 PM. Call that diligence. 

Honestly, isn't it just a testament to my absolute dedication to my job? Like, I feel comfortable enough to fall asleep at my own workplace. Call that dedication.

But no, they called that a "documented pattern of willful misconduct" with a "lack of mitigating circumstances," and a "just cause for dismissal."

'Sexist... that's what it is... just the white man trying to keep me down...' I grumbled sheepishly to myself, which was apparently still loud enough for my caseworker to hear, as she cleared her throat in kind. 

'Ma'am, according to your claim, in the past month you've been separated a total of ten times for chronic infraction of workplace policy. And given your excessive negligence paired with the lack of mitigating circumstances, and a reported unwillingness to correct your behavior, I'm afraid you're just not eligible to claim unemployment benefits.'

I nod, in understanding this time. Good, she can read. What more could I want from a caseworker.

'According to your employment history, you have also been denied medical exemption multiple times on account of insufficient documentation, aside from your personal medical claim listed as "sleepy." Have you tried being tested for narcolepsy or anemia? Those are qualifying medical conditions.'

'Tried and failed,' I replied curtly, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes.

'So, you're just-'

'Entitled to sleep where I want... when I want... it's my one of my rights... as a citizen of... um...' I interrupted, stifling several yawns while I preached my rights. I didn't know if I was right or not, but I was too tired to care. Sleep was probably a human right, maybe that was enough.

'Yes, I know, your "protected rights as a citizen of Sandman." But you also have a right to work, which I am here to help you reinstate.'

She was so adept at keeping her customer service face on that if I had the energy I'd be seething. That smile. That damned smile. But, I guess, in a way, it was also kind of commendable. After all, she had to deal with unemployable assholes all day; unlike me, a mere victim of the system.

'I'm just... another number crunched... under the boot of the white man...' I babbled, getting sleepier and less coherent by the second. How did this lady do it? I would've been asleep in the janitor's closet cuddled up with a mop after a mere two nutcases cracked.

Despite evidently hearing my drivel, this time she ignored me, instead typing for a couple minutes before the printer beneath her desk started whirring.

'Ooh, fun. More forms,' I groaned, preparing myself to scrawl out that horrid signature I'd concocted in grade school. E-T-H-E-L. It had lost all meaning at this point. Just an overly complex scribble I'd once associated with someone's grandmother, and even more so now since it looked so dainty.

'Nope. A job referral form. Please take a look, I believe it'll be right up your alley,' she replied, adjusting her washed-out cobalt tie as if wiping sweat from her brow. I sensed elation in her voice which had otherwise registered as a droning hammer to my skull for the past hour. She was happy to have me gone, and I was happy to never set foot in the unemployment office for as long as I lived.

She handed me the form—singular. Weightless. An angel's kiss upon my instinctively outstretched hands.

I slid my eyes from the wall – where they'd been glued to unconsciously – down to the paper in my hands, refocusing them. The employer read as "PARALA: Sandman Afterhours Security Solutions." What was PARALA? What did it mean? Was SASS too fruity for a night security agency?

Ok, never mind that. What was the pay? $22 an hour, 40 hours. Good. Great, even. That would be, if I could commit to a sleepless day at the grind.

Ok, now for the big reveal. Drumroll... Position: night security officer. Oh.

'That sounds... qualified.'

'You'd think so, but no. They're a rather small agency and pretty desperate, so all you need is a clean criminal record and 40 hours of basic security officer training. You may be criminally incompetent, but you've got a clean slate as far as your records go. Plus, according to your employment history, your first position out of high school was patrol officer at Sandman P.D.' 

'Don't remind me... rolling in the pen with those pigs was the worst two months of my life... I feel filthy just thinking about it,' I visibly shuddered, but she had a point. I had a firearms permit... somewhere. An expired one, far past its renewal period, but it was still proof I was capable of getting one. Of course, that wasn't saying much in this country.

'So... do you want me to contact them now... or like, submit an application?' I questioned mid-yawn.

'Nope. Just show up by Monday 9:00 AM.'

'9:00 AM? I thought this was an afterhours job?'

'The security details are, but orientation happens at the office.'

Great. Just great.