The numbers

Typical night shift in a Warehouse. Another groundhog day of returns processing. It is not too bad, not too bad, I keep repeating myself. The money is decent, the job itself is easy and not stressful. Let's face it, even not in the pandemic, with my strong Polish accent and shyness, I do not have many amazing options.

Beep, beep, another item is scanned, on the screen appeared painfully familiar questions: type of seal, is it seal intact, signs of use, evaluate customer comment. Beep, beep, beep; cameras, snacks, phone covers, toasters and sex toys, endless stream of the goods coming of conveyor belt. Beep a delivery label scanned, a little back notebook inside. There is no bar-code on it, OK I have to choose from the order list. The picture on the screen is matching, all good here. Now the description; colour; black, size of the item; small. So far so good, signs of use?, cover intact, quick flick through pages, brand new. The customer comment; CHECK INSIDE THE BOOK FOR YOUR UNLUCKY NUMBERS. What a hell? I'm about to click “no physical damage on the item” but decide to have another look instead. On the first page in red ink, big characters, handwritten numbers 1005110. Impossible to miss, yet I clearly did.

I feel uneasy. I marked the notebook as unsellable. I could swear that was not any writing on it before. Unlucky numbers, what a strange wording. Numbers to avoid, be aware of certain numbers, but YOUR unlucky numbers, it seems like my fate is set. There are unlucky numbers and there are mine now, voila, the shit present from the Universe. What is the point of the warning then?

OK, enough of it, the target is not going to do it itself. Let the repetitive clicks and beeps continue. First break, second break, home time.

Line 1, scanners on charge, lights off, home time; the manager is shouting in the herding cattle like manner. Folks who were working on the first line, quickly tidying their work spaces and now they are heading to the exit doors. Nobody is talking. Not that we do not like each other, it is just physically impossible, to understand other people when you are 2 meters apart. Add to it the muffling effect of face masks, the usual warehouse noise and the fact that not everyone is fluent in English and you have the silent march. I so miss the chit-chats and laughter. The times when social distracting ambassadors (what a idiotic title!) would not scream “2 meters guys” as soon as you are in range of audibility. Well, that is all gone now.

Line 2, scanners on charge, lights off, home time. I am on line 7, that will be another 15 minutes until I leave my station. Graham, the guy who is giving me a lift, worked on line 1 today. I don't like to keep him waiting but there is nothing I can do. I try to think where the other 2 of our driving-pack were today. Then I see them leaving with line 3. Great, I am the last one.

Uff, eventually outside. Where has Graham parked today? Was the third row from the entry? No, that was yesterday. All the days of the week are just one blur. Work, sleep, eat, repeat. Wait, I know, today almost all the spaces were taken, so the car is parked in the overflow area. I don't know the makes of cars, so I am searching for my ride by colour and the plate. It starts by ST0. In Polish, "sto" means one hundred, so it is easy to remember for me.

Here it is. Graham is making a gesture of pointing his watch, but I am not going to the car. I just stare at its plate and try to not panic. The plate is ST05 IIO. 1005110 MY unlucky numbers! Thoughts are running through my head with light-speed. What do I do? I can take a taxi, but that will cost a fortune. Also what I'm going to tell Graham? Thanks for waiting but I am not going with you today. We will have an accident, the little black book told me so. What about tomorrow? Is it the cursed car just for today or forever and ever?

Don't be stupid, get into the car, I think to myself. That is just a coincidence. Besides, there are not numbers. ST IIO are letters, they might look like numbers to your bias mind but still there are not numbers.

You're coming?

Deep breath, yes I guess I am.

Good shift? Not too bad- I replied. My voice is so shaky that all eyes are on me now.

Are you OK, you look so pale today?

I'm not bloody OK, I'm petrified, my heart rate is over the roof and I want to puke. Please, do not puke, do not puke. I'm all good, I’m just tired. I tried to smile but I don't think it was very convincing. How was your night guys?

All the way home I could see the tragedy waiting in every corner. Every passing car meant danger.

But nothing unusual happened. Absolutely nothing.

You are not right in the head, I’m thinking when flashing my vomit. Absolutely bonkers, I am saying it out loud now, as I noticed small wounds on my hands. I must have clawed my nails, when Graham took over the tractor. I have got a massive headache, it feels like my skull is going to explode. I'm also dizzy to the point that the walls seem moving. I just need some sleep. Tomorrow everything is gonna be OK.

And it was. All week passed, every day I got a lift off Graham. Nothing had happened. Until I saw the small black notebook again.

It looked exactly the same, like before, the same size, same type of leather and type of paper.

This time I am checking it very carefully, page by page. Unused, mint condition, no writing, marks on bends. I tense before clicking on the customer comment box. Please, please be the usual suspects; "ordered by accident", "I'm not happy with the quality" or my absolute favourite: "looks bigger on the pictures" (yeah, ignore the dimensions in the description, just judge the size of the item from the photos without the scale). But it is not the usual.

CHECK INSIDE THE BOOK FOR YOUR LUCKY NUMBERS. I don't want to see any numbers creepily appearing in the creepy book. Doesn't matter lucky or unlucky. Just let me be; I'm pleading. I have no idea to whom I'm pleading to? God? Fate? Matrix program? I'm opening the book with the shaky hands. On the first page in red ink, big characters, handwritten numbers; 11 16 20 39 41 51 and underneath $20 000 .

6 numbers, 2 digest each. Lotto numbers? But then why only $20 000 that is not an amount to change life, is it really worth this all black book mumbo jumbo? and why dollars?! I'm in Scotland!

I need to sit down. I'm going to the toilet and sit on the closed toilet seat. The blasting headache came back, the third time this week and walls are wobbly again. You do not have to play the lottery, just do not play the lotto and everything will be peachy. Of course, it never is so easy.

Local Spar is not a great place to do grocery but is just a few steps away from my house, so I often shop here. Not many items in the basket, just essentials: bread, cheese, tomatoes. Anything else? No, thank you. That is all. That was what I was going to reply. But instead of that I bought a lotto ticket 11 16 20 39 41 51.

Seriously, that was if I was watching myself from above. I mean, I know that I actually asked for the ticket. But I didn't plan it, I did not want to say what I said. What possessed you, you stupid, stupid cow. Still I have checked my numbers that night. Match 5. My winning; £14 269. Which in conversion is $20 000!

I break in tears. If the lucky numbers are real, so are unlucky ones. The ticket in my hand, tears on my cheeks. Scott, my partner is looking at me with concern. What's wrong honey? I just won £ 14 000. And that is upsetting becauseee? He is obviously puzzled. Tell me what is going on?

I'm trying to say all the story, unfortunately I'm not making much sense. But after initial chaotic gibberish and tons of additional questions, Scott knows all about the spooky black notebook. And like always he came up with the genius at its simplicity solution. Now you have got the money, just buy a car and don't go any nearby Graham's one ever again.

Everything back to normal, I drive to work in my shiny car and search for holidays in exotic places. We will fly when the pandemic is over, hope it is not too long. Only my headaches are more and more frequent and severe. I need to see my GP.

Migraines, dizziness, can be various reasons for it. It is usually stress related -my doctor does not seem to be overly concerned. But we can do an X-ray, just a precaution, really.

That was the third time when the unknown number tried to call me. I'm sleeping days, working nights, I will call back when I'm off.

Eventually, 2 days off, so good to be home. Scott, still sleeping. I will make some breakfast for him today. On the table the letter from the NHS. I am starting to be afraid at that point. The phone calls were probably about my results and doctors will call you only when something is wrong. Not to tell patients the bad news over the phone, but to make them come into the clinic and do it in person.

I tore the envelope, I was right. Bla bla bla please schedule an appointment to discuss your screening test results. Then my fear turns into real horror when I see the reference number: 1005110. I know what I’m going to hear from doctors.