Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Friday
Chilly Coon Kitty considers working, so I’m giving him a hand.
Friday’s “whether” forecast (as in “whether or not I can get out of bed this morning”): Foggy all day.
Next time I’m calling in sick.
There’s a 30-something shadowing me for my job who has a vibrant, outgoing personality, and a lot of talent for paperwork. She was supposed to be in my office working on reports by 10:00am.
I arrived at work, 10:00am came and went, so I messaged her on my cell phone. Ends up, she was sitting in the ER with an IV drip. Diagnosis? Stomach virus.
How can I be angry at a dehydrated someone who had been throwing up all night…
…and didn’t bother to write a 6 1/2-word email that said: Fever, vomiting, won’t be in today?
Friday’s anger level: Defcon 2, shooting off messages with a smile.
In the 1960’s, “24 hours virus” was another word for mild food poisoning.
Mom sent me to school the next day…on my bicycle…to ride a mile to living hell school.
Who knew that leaving potato salad on a picnic table in 90F weather for 8 hours could make you upchuck? It seems there is a whole lot of C#@p in the mayo to keep it from spoiling. Onions aren’t that lucky.
But I digress.
Why was my first reaction anger?
A mere 22 years ago, I fell down the stairs and tore every tendon, ligament and muscle above the ankle. The orthopedic surgeon said it would have been better if I’d broken it. I had an audit the next day and arrived at the state agency office on crutches with a cast on my leg, my better half carrying a box full of files.
My point?
There are only 2 reasons I don’t call someone to tell them I won’t be at an appointment: I’m in a coma or I’m dead.
I use the word “coma” loosely to include brain farts; a condition in which the body still walks, mumbles, and eats, but it can’t talk or think.
One of those walking comas happened to me the week before, on a Tuesday. Three people walked into an office that can barely hold 2 on a good day, and I asked, “Why are you here?”
The reply to my ill advised question? “We had an appointment.”
I looked on my calendar and realized the horrible truth. We were in the 3rd week of October, not the 4th. Instead of turning them away, I said, “This is a great teaching moment for the woman who will be taking my place when I die.”
Probably not the best choice of words. Most people take death much too seriously.
Yes, the woman shadowing me was there. In my defense, I kept the appointment and it was a great teaching moment.
What she learned from it might not be what I intended to teach.
This is one of my recently discovered pet peeves. I’ve encountered a few people who did not come in to work and didn’t call/email the past couple of years. Just goes to show how much you care about the job. Also, to me, it shows a lack of respect, but they say I’m just too sensitive.
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In my early 20’s, I would do stuff like that. By my 30’s my reliability index rose considerably. Things like that are probably the reason most of us say later in life that old cliche: “I wish I knew then what I know now.”
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Meh, I’ve never done that.
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What? No sarcasm emoji 😎 😆😆??
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Nope. Dead serious. I was born in my 50s.
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You are a rare person.
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The work ethic of my generation has certainly gone out the window. I dream of calling in “sick” but in the 35 years I have been working, I have never once done it, except when I had Pertussis, and then the time I had Campylobacter (and both times the Public Health department told me I couldn’t go in).
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I have to admit. I had to look up Campylobacter. I was surprised to learn that a single drop of juice from raw chicken can contain enough bacteria to infect someone.
Work ethics, and work protocols, have gone out the window. It is sad to see that people don’t call in sick when they can’t come to work. Now, there are “mental health” days, where you can take time off to save your sanity.
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Oh, and in California – you can take MONTHS off for mental health! The Public Health Department suspects I picked up the Campylobacter from the pool at the gym. I guess that’s what I get for trying to exercise.
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Geez. That’s incredible. Months? Typical of California.
I never knew about Campylobacter before today, now I have to wonder how many times I was sick from it and thought it was a run-of-the-mill virus.
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