Hating Late Shifts

When I first started working for London Underground, my hatred for late shifts was simple; it got in the way of beer time.
But now something has become clear to me. A late shift means not seeing my family.
Sure, I see them both for an hour before leaving, but it's not enough. I come home from a late shift to "He's done ..........." and then a bit of "He ............. today!"
FUCK NO! I shouldn't be missing these moments.
Die , late shifts, die!