I have a job. It isn’t a good job, a hard job, a tiring job. It is a job. I work to get paid so I can live and work to get paid. And after every midnight shift, the walk home is a walk of shame.
You may be familiar with the walk of shame. You may have even taken one or two or twelve in recent months. You don’t necessarily feel totally clean or proud of what you’ve done, but you know it was worth it. Or you hope it was. That is how every midnight shift at my job makes me feel. I walk home and…
