Sick of Being Sick
So here it is, January 4 – the second working day of the new year, and already one of my co-workers has called in sick.
This is the same guy who took somewhere around 60 days off in 2005 being “sick” (no kidding). It’s about time someone bought himself a large bottle of vitamins, wouldn’t you think?
60 days out sick – out of a possible 252 working days in a year. Not counting vacation time, that’s a whopping 23 percent. Yikes, huh?
You’re probably thinking, “Christ, Tommy. How does he get away with it?” Well, it’s like this. Our beloved manager Skippy Whitebread doesn’t keep track of time off like he’s supposed to (which is kind of surprising, considering he usual obsessive-compulsive ways). So “Scott” knows he can get away with it, and he does, to the tune of at least one day a week, but usually more.
I really thought about tracking his sick time for the new year, but 1) it wouldn’t do any good, since Skippy won’t ever do anything about it and risk losing another team member, and 2) it’d just piss me off even further.
I’ll be very honest: I’m not jealous of his excessive time off – I’m disgusted by it. When a company hires you to do a job for them, they expect you to show up as scheduled. It only seems natural, doesn’t it? They pay you, you work, everyone goes home happy. When you don’t show up as expected, then someone else has to cover your duties. In an emergency or a crunch situation, then it’s fine. But what if those situations happened every single week? You too would get tired of covering someone’s butt for them while they’re off goofing around.
If you’re honestly sick, then by all means call in. Please don’t spread your germs to me. And if your kids are sick, then all human compassion says you should take care of them. I did it when Miss Katie was young, and by golly I’d expect you to do the same.
But calling in “sick” because you stayed up too late last night and don’t feel like coming to work in the morning? That’s just LAME. And Scott is a 35 year old man – he knows better.
So color me thoroughly disgusted, and stuck doing his work on top of my own.
It’s now lunch time – I think I’ll go buy some plastic gloves, surgical masks, and a large bottle of disinfectant for someone’s desk. And if that doesn’t work, then maybe we can have a “Writer in a Plastic Bubble”.
This is the same guy who took somewhere around 60 days off in 2005 being “sick” (no kidding). It’s about time someone bought himself a large bottle of vitamins, wouldn’t you think?
60 days out sick – out of a possible 252 working days in a year. Not counting vacation time, that’s a whopping 23 percent. Yikes, huh?
You’re probably thinking, “Christ, Tommy. How does he get away with it?” Well, it’s like this. Our beloved manager Skippy Whitebread doesn’t keep track of time off like he’s supposed to (which is kind of surprising, considering he usual obsessive-compulsive ways). So “Scott” knows he can get away with it, and he does, to the tune of at least one day a week, but usually more.
I really thought about tracking his sick time for the new year, but 1) it wouldn’t do any good, since Skippy won’t ever do anything about it and risk losing another team member, and 2) it’d just piss me off even further.
I’ll be very honest: I’m not jealous of his excessive time off – I’m disgusted by it. When a company hires you to do a job for them, they expect you to show up as scheduled. It only seems natural, doesn’t it? They pay you, you work, everyone goes home happy. When you don’t show up as expected, then someone else has to cover your duties. In an emergency or a crunch situation, then it’s fine. But what if those situations happened every single week? You too would get tired of covering someone’s butt for them while they’re off goofing around.
If you’re honestly sick, then by all means call in. Please don’t spread your germs to me. And if your kids are sick, then all human compassion says you should take care of them. I did it when Miss Katie was young, and by golly I’d expect you to do the same.
But calling in “sick” because you stayed up too late last night and don’t feel like coming to work in the morning? That’s just LAME. And Scott is a 35 year old man – he knows better.
So color me thoroughly disgusted, and stuck doing his work on top of my own.
It’s now lunch time – I think I’ll go buy some plastic gloves, surgical masks, and a large bottle of disinfectant for someone’s desk. And if that doesn’t work, then maybe we can have a “Writer in a Plastic Bubble”.
posted by Tommy G at
11:51 AM
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