I don’t look pale. I was born this way!!!
In my opinion, there is nothing worse than being sick. Then again, now that I think about it, arriving at a Starbucks five minutes after it has closed for the day is pretty bad. Oh, and cold fries from McDonald’s certainly ranks up there on the list of horrible things too. And I guess I should mention that having your rent check bounce isn’t too good—especially when it happens twice within the same week, and the only thing that keeps your landlord from tossing you and your fish out into the street is a last-minute presidential pardon.
But even worse than all of those things is returning to work after being out sick for a few days. I may feel well enough to do the Electric Slide or the Boot Scootin’ Boogie in my seat at each traffic light during the drive to work, but there is just something about taking that first step back into my cube that instantly makes me feel a little feverish and gives me hives. First and foremost, because of all your awesome awesomeness, your work has been left there for you to tackle just to let you know that it couldn’t possibly have been done as efficiently without you. Go ahead and pat yourself on the back for being so special. You deserve it!
In addition to that mound of responsibility that built up on your desk over the two or three days you were out that suddenly has to be done within a single 8-hour shift, you then have to maneuver through the gauntlet of questions to justify the reason for your absence. It’s as if people think you were in the middle of working on a spreadsheet on a Tuesday morning but then decided to gas up the private jet for a quick, 2-day trip to Paris. Granted, I used to do that type of thing, but now that I’m in my thirties and I have a blog, I’ve decided to use the jet more wisely—like when I’m headed out of state to meet up with foreign diplomats to talk about blog policy.
No lie, answering the follow-up questions when you return to work is like attempting to win the “Hunger Games??? when your only weapon is a safety pin. If you had a fever of 104.6, then someone has to trump that by telling you about the one time they had a fever of 210.2 and lost an arm but still made it to work on time. Making matters even worse, they typically attribute that amazing accomplishment to the one cold and cough medicine that you weren’t smart enough to take. Silly you for not knowing that Robitussin with a shot of whiskey cures all. How foolish of you to have only taken three Tylenols, five Excedrins, twelve Advils, and a bottle of Dayquil before heading in to work that morning.
And if you’re truly lucky, you’ll have made some great friends and associates that will be more than happy to let you know whether your decision to come back to work was a good one or not. Like the person(s) who insists on letting you know that you still look horrible, and, if you were a dog, they’d recommend putting you out of your misery. Somehow, they can tell that you’re still sick just by looking at your eyes or your navel—don’t ask! In my opinion, this is one of the few times where honesty may not be the best policy unless you think that it will somehow boost a person’s confidence by telling them that they look like something out of a zombie movie. I don’t know about you, but that revelation has certainly not helped my self-esteem—ever. Thanks for trying, though.
Then, just as you’re starting to get into the grove of things, you hear a cough somewhere in the office and at least five people make claims that you’re the reason their throats hurt or that they sneezed two weeks ago. When this happens, apparently, it’s because the CIA has confirmed that you were the only person in the world to have had a cold on October 11th, so that is the only way your coworkers could have possibly been exposed to swine flu with a hint of chicken pox. Of course, this betrayal will make you want to pack your things and go right back home. However, once you’re at work, you’re kind of stuck—unless you force yourself to sneeze so hard that you pass out and roll around on the floor until you’re escorted out of the building and left on the curb to wait for the ambulance to arrive. If I were you, I wouldn’t do this more than twice within a one-year period because it becomes less effective with each use.
On the other hand, being sick allowed me to do some things during the weekday that I hadn’t done in years, like sleeping and washing the dishes. Oh, and did you know that there are television shows that come on during the day while everyone is at work? I didn’t even know that my TV worked between the hours of 8:30 and 5:30, much less that I’d find something on that was actually worth watching. Imagine my surprise when I was flipping through the channels and landed on these totally new shows called “The Price Is Right??? and “The News.??? I was totally astonished. I caught up on so many missed TV shows that I totally thought about calling out sick for just one more day so that I could rest from all the TV watching. If I had’ve been smart, I would have managed to squeeze in some homework in there, but I’m not, so I didn’t.
While we’re on the subject of things that make you sick, if you’re like me, realizing that you have a birthday in a few days is certainly enough to bring on a few coughs and a choke or two. I’m not sure how or why it happened, but at some point this year I fell asleep and woke up to find that we were in the middle of October, which is the same month that my birth mother claims I was born—as if she would know! It’s not like she was there or anything! And although some of my friends have been saying that I turned thirty-three a few years ago, the encyclopedia my source says that I’ll be turning thirty-three this year. I’m hoping this birthday will be a lucky since it falls in the 10th month on the 23rd day, and I’ll be turning 33 (get it 10 + 23 = 33). Look at me using math!!! I’m getting so smart in my old age. Well anyway, this year, as opposed to wishing for the winning lottery numbers again, which I’ve been doing since I was a toddler, I’m just going to hope and pray that I won’t be sick. And if I do get sick, I hope this isn’t the time that my veterinarian decides to put me down—again. It was such a pain making it into work after the last time.
Michael Rochelle
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