Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2002-02-02 - 9:31 a.m.

Calling In

Dawned on me this morning: if I should ever want to call in sick to work, I now have to call TWO places.

If I should ever. Like this morning. Yeah. I want to call in this morning. Yesterday, I forgot to pack a lunch, and I stopped and got a sandwich at the place that shall remain nameless except that it sounds a lot like Togo's, and I have been sick ever since. Yo. Sick. Like I swallowed some of that radioactive stuff that has illuminated my entire digestive system. Like I'm getting an anatomy lesson - "Outline the Small Intestine in red crayon."

But anyway. I can't call in, because I have to go to work. Because I have two jobs, and they hired me to do them, and I am going to go do them. Me and that friggin' Sandwich of Doom are going to work. But that's okay, because the one thing I hate worse than stomach pain is calling in sick.

I feel guilty calling in sick. I never do it unless I really am too sick to work, but I still feel like I'm malingering. Like you shouldn't let a little thing like kidney stones stop you from your appointed rounds. That's flaky, calling in. I could call from the hospital, I could have a NURSE call from the hospital, I'd still be all, "I'm so sorry, I really DID break my neck, I could send you the X-rays, I'll try to come in tomorrow." That's why people my age are so valuable as employees. We know about guilt. I should put in on my resume. Special Skills and Attributes: Extensive Guilt.

I didn't have quite so much guilt when I was younger. I had a job I really hated, in my twenties. I would wake up every morning thinking, "I can't do this again today. I think I'm sick." Then I would try to cajole my boyfriend at the time into calling in sick for me. I felt guilty faking illness, but not so guilty making someone ELSE lie for me. Go figure. He'd do it, about half the time. He'd get cross about it, but a cross boyfriend was easier to deal with than an accusing boss.

When I was a manager, I told my people, "Just call and tell me you're not coming in and tell me when you think you WILL be in. That's all. If you do it too often, we'll talk. Otherwise, that's all you have to do. You don't have to convince me. I DON'T want to hear the details of your diarrhea or how many times you threw up." They still told me. I'd be on the other end of the phone yelling, "No! No! Don't tell me!" and they'd still tell me. I think it just made them feel less guilty. "No! Just send the X-rays! I don't want to hear this!" The goriest details came from those I knew damned well weren't sick. My best people had the nerve to call in and say, "I just don't want to come to work today," and I'd say, "Okay." I always appreciated that.

But I could never do that, call in because I don't feel like going to work. I can't even call in any more when I have the Agony of Pastrami. But then, I don't work for me. Any more.

It's a dumb thing, this guilt. If you're sick, you shouldn't go to work. The world of commerce, or whatever, will move along fine without you, or without me, for a day. Or a week. Or a month. And the people I work for know I'm pretty reliable and very honest, and nobody's going to get mad at me and call me a flake. I don't think.

I wonder if my boyfriend would call in for me.

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