Get UP!

John had to have that extra ten to fifteen minutes in kip, before
getting up for work. Which made him late getting there. Needless to say
he was sacked from every job he'd had so far. John didn't want to lose
this new job; immaculate working conditions, good wages.

However, punctuality was company policy. Latecomers had their clocking
in cards removed by the shop manager and taken to his office at the
other side of the factory.
Culprits retrieved them by running 'the gauntlet' as they trekked
through departments. Humiliated by other employees' taunts: 'Here come
the part timers.' Or 'Afternoon shift's early."

John, like many other new employees, was on a month's probation. He
knew in his heart he needed to take his problem by the scruff of the
neck and solve it. The last card in the pack was imminent if he didn't
find out how the 'early birds' managed to get to work on time.

One bloke asked John if he had a radio. Daft question. How could youth
get through the day without music blasting out? Then the bloke
explained the weirdest home made device he used for rattling his brain
into action each morning.

First, plug the radio, set at the highest volume, into the light
socket. Then tie a piece of string, tied to the clock, to the light
switch in the off position. Place the alarm clock on top of the radio
close to its edge.

When the alarm went off at the set time - bingo! The alarm vibrated
that much it fell off the radio, and, via the string, switched on the
radio's loud music. If that didn't get John up then he must be dead to
the world. It certainly worked for his workmate, why not John?

Not so! Next morning John, once again, dragged his feet, through the
various shop floors to get his clock card. Embarrassed and shamed by
the usual verbal abuse. The ingenious, early wake up system the bloke
had given him had worked up to a point - and set the radio going.

But John's negative mind wasn't putting up with that racket, disturbing
a peaceful slumber. It subconsciously instructed John to muffle the
loud music by sticking his head under the blankets. And went back into
sleep mode.

"Get a dog," a work colleague advised John. "Dogs need taking out to do
their business first thing in the morning. Mine never fails to get me
up."

John didn't care for this piece of friendly advice. Dogs also need
taking out last thing at night. Try doing that when you've had a
skinful of ale. Bet looking after a dog took up a lot of one's free
time.

Didn't fancy the dog getting him up early Sunday morning, either.
Demanding to be taken for a walk. Not with his king sized hangovers. He
loved his Saturday night piss ups and Sunday morning lie in till well
past noon.

A terrible thought suddenly crossed his mind. If he lost his job
there'd be no money for booze. So in sheer desperation, he got a dog
from animal rescue. Tragedy. He didn't even turn up for work the next
day.

The hound barked all night, keeping him awake, and slept when it was
time to get up. In fact, both slept all day. John took the dog for
another long walk - back to animal rescue. Right sharpish and
all.

Well, he tried going to bed early - six o' clock even. Soon packed that
in, though. The Sunlight from outside kept him awake until it went
dark. Besides, going to bed at that time he was missing all the free
nosh ups at the summer barbeques he got invited to.

He was running out of ideas, but didn't relish a job on night's
regular. In the mess room, Old Harry was reading the morning newspaper.
Harry, he was told, had been with the firm donkey's years. Never late
once.

Nobody knew exactly what his job entailed. If he had one! The mess room
was his 'office' where he did nothing, but have one, long tea break.
But he was punctual! And that's all the company asked of its employers,
it seemed. "What's your secret, then, Harry? Getting here on time, I
mean?"

Harry didn't look up from his paper. He hated being disturbed. "I go to
bed with the intentions of getting up early in a morning."

That's a new one, frowned John. Bound to try it, though. That night,
before nodding off to sleep, John whispered to himself. "I want to get
up at 6am." He didn't feel any different when he fell asleep. And
neither did he get up at 6am.

Old Harry told him to persevere. Then, sure enough one morning, after
weeks of dragging his tired body out of kip, his brain woke him up at
6am. Jumped out of bed like an army PT instructor. Had bags of time for
breakfast.

At work, he strolled in bright and early: Earlier than the early birds
in fact, who asked John if he'd wet bed, or something. John bragged it
was now a pleasure to get up. No more late mornings. Harry said it was
simple, really. Common sense. Mind over matter.

Unfortunately, a year later, old Harry died. Then the shop manager
retired and John was promoted to the position. He decided to put old
Harry's legacy to good use. He passed it onto the latecomers who
humbled to him, heads bowed, for their clocking in cards.

When staff came late, they had worked harder, turning out more work
than the early birds whose jobs were safe. Now, having learned to get
up early, they discovered they needn't 'kill' themselves anymore.

They followed old Harry's other example and took frequent tea breaks.
He got away with it for years. John commented. "Old Harry kept company
policy - just get here on time." Eventually, through lethargy, company
orders dwindled. John was the first to be made redundant.