My work is hell. Sort of.
It's mostly a construction site at the moment and I'm hardly a tradie. I'm a shelf stacker. It's musty, dusty and the air conditioning isn't on and it's very hot. Hotter than Hell.
I'm wearing long black pants, boots and a long sleeve shirt and I'm far from being as cool as a cucumber.
Our only safe haven, or Heaven if you will, is the break room. It's a chilly 16 degrees, but the cool relief doesn't last long once we return to the furnace.
Sure, there are worse places in the world. But I'm upper middle class, and I must suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.