It’s almost eight p.m., and Lauro Gonzalez, the 37-year-old night shift manager at a produce store in Brooklyn, has already arranged carrots and squashes in neat rows, fluffed up the cilantro and stuck store logo stickers on a cartful of packaged corn. Before his 12 hour shift ends at 7 a.m. he will sit down only once.

“If the shelves are organized, full and clean, people want to buy,” Gonzalez says.

The produce store 3 Guys From Brooklyn is an institution in southwest Brooklyn, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, at the northern corner of Dyker Heights. It was founded by Stanley Zimmerman and two friends in 1972 but by the end of the decade it had changed its name and moved to Coney Island. In 1998, Zimmerman’s two sons and one of their friends revived the business in its original location.

The store really is always open: it doesn’t even have locks on the doors because there are no doors. Plastic-strip curtains cover the entrances.

Gonzalez, who with his wife, Llamelin, has four children between the ages of 7 and 13, started working here 20 years ago after he immigrated from Mexico. It was hard for him to find a job: he recalls how everyone kept telling him he looked too weak and he should go to school. But he needed to support himself, and finally got a job as a bagger at 3 Guys.

“And look where I’m now. A night shift manager”. Gonzalez is proud that his boss thought that he could do it – and while he is short, only five foot, four inches tall, he is anything but weak. He empties heavy waste containers into a larger bin while balancing on a pallet on top of a forklift.

He prides himself on being a boss who does the everyday tasks. Jessica Perales, a cashier, who has worked at 3 Guys for 14 years, appreciates the effort.

“He is always working, he knows how to do it”, Perales says.

After working as a bagger for couple of years Gonzalez helped in the grocery section and worked through the ranks to being the manager of the section. 3 Guys is also the place where he met Llamelin.

“She was packing candies and nuts and I was like, wow, who is she?” said Gonzalez, describing their first encounter 15 years ago.

Gonzalez was promoted to be a night-shift manager last December. The new position meant a raise but also a dreadful schedule. Working night shifts is hard: sleeping problems are common and night workers are prone to accidents. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics around three percent of the American workforce work at night.

Adjusting has been a challenge for Gonzalez. He works five nights a week, nine to 12 hours a night. He used to go the park with kids in the afternoon but nowadays he is often too tired.

“I might promise to kids to go to movies after a nap but then I just don’t wake up,” Gonzalez says.

Around midnight Gonzalez grabs dinner, which he ordered by phone from a place he has saved under the name “Sandwich” in his phone but whose real name he doesn’t know, even though he orders from them several times a week. Gonzalez walks upstairs into a back room. He nods to a coworker at the next table but chooses to sit alone. This is the only opportunity to rest during his shift.

Gonzalez turns the foil to-go tray upside down and places the quesadilla on the lid. He opens a container of shrimp soup and pours the content into the foil tray. He eats quickly while he watches “Nosotros Los Guapos,” a Mexican sitcom, on his phone. He is still eating when the show ends, so he taps his phone and a loud voice fills the air:

“Say to yourself: ‘I’m the one! I’m the one! No matter how bad it gets, I’m going to make it!”

Gonzalez watches motivational videos like this one, he says, because they keep him going.

“Listen to me. You’re the one! You’ve got to make it your personal business! And if you help other people to succeed, that feeds your success!” the male voice shouts.

Gonzalez closes the containers and puts everything back to the plastic bag. It’s quarter past midnight and there’s still lots to do.

The first bread delivery will arrive at about three in the morning, followed by two more. The truck filled with fresh vegetables and fruits arrives around four.

Some prices need to be changed, too. An old batch of okra was on sale but when a fresh batch comes in, the price has to increase. Wilted asparagus is on sale, too.

By 7 a.m. it’s bright again. The morning shift comes to work at seven. David Moor, the day manager, walks in and looks around. Everything seems to be in order, except for one thing.

“He [Gonzalez] did the right thing and reduced the price of the asparagus, but still, I wouldn’t want the customers to get these even at this price,” he says and points to the weary asparagus. He’ll take them down first thing and put them in the food donation box.

Gonzalez clocks out. Although he’s been at the market for two decades, he’s not sure about the future. He’d love to work in construction. And he’s determined to learn Chinese one day, to be able to help more people at the store, or elsewhere. He can’t say how long he will put up with night shifts.

“I don’t want to miss the important moments with my kids.”

A few years ago, he was working two jobs, at the market and as a bartender in Manhattan.

“I missed so many moments,” he said. “I wasn’t there when my youngest learned to write his name.”

Before leaving, he buys some ricotta cheese and whole milk mozzarella from the store. When he wakes up around noon he will make lasagna for his family.

Tags: 3 Guys From Brooklyn, Lauro Gonzalez, New York Sits Down to Dinner