Before I reached my current level of maturity and responsibility one might say I was prone to taking the occasional day off of work under the guise of being sick. Not that I wasn’t sick some of those times, but the illnesses were either usually self-induced or I felt a little ill and I convinced myself I was more sick than I actually was. Most of the time I just wanted to take what I refer to as a “mental health” day. Mental health days were the best because usually what ailed me could be cured with just a few more hours sleep. I would often wake up to my morning alarm, decide that I was not going into work that day, set my alarm for 8:00 so that I could call when my boss got in, sleep until that alarm went off, call in sick (sounding very, very ill), go back to sleep and not wake up until my body’s internal alarm clock went off.
The problem with this was I would often wake up around 10:00 or 10:30, realize how many times I had pulled this recently, feel guilty for about 5 minutes and contemplate going in for the afternoon, realize I told them I had a fever or nausea (which were no-no’s in terms of going into the office), and then soak in guilt the rest of the day because I knew I’d probably be talked to about my excessive absences when I got in the next day. It’s amazing how 10:30 a.m. thinking is so much more lucid than 7:00 a.m. thinking. Oh well, what choice did I have at that point other than to enjoy the day?
Let’s get back to the excuses though.
I had all sorts of excuses. I used anything from the flu to a bad back to stomach viruses. I was convincing too. The initial phone call would usually provide many more details than would normally need to be shared, but I wanted them to know that I sure would make it in if I could, but these extenuating circumstances are really preventing me from doing so. Sometimes, I was so convincing that I needed a second day off to make sure that I was fully recovered. Then, once I returned to work I would continue playing the part to hammer home the point that I was really, really sick. I know, I know, I’m a horrible person but if anyone reading this can honestly say that they’ve never faked being sick and took a random day off here or there, you can throw the first stone at me.
Well, I’m still standing here stone free so I’ll continue.
My favorite excuse of all time is a little unsettling. It’s a story I concocted pretty much on the spot and was amazed that a) anyone believed me, and b) that anyone wanted to be anywhere near me afterwards. I will use fake names and locations to protect the innocent (even though I’m pretty sure none of them read my blog), and to also protect myself from prosecution.
Having a big mouth in those days, I was always spouting off on what I was going out to do that night. This was back in the days when Carol and I were dating and living together (GASP!!) but still not married. We were both prone to going out and having a good time whenever we could and since Carol’s work schedule often gave her days off in the middle of the week, we would often consume a few frosty beverages on those nights. On this particular night we were going to Slow Eddie’s (fake name) in Not-Alton, IL (fake city) to meet some friends for a few drinks. As I mentioned this at work, my boss kind of gave me a look as if to say “you’d better not be hungover tomorrow.” I assured them that we were only going for dinner and then were heading right back home. I would not be hungover.
Of course I wouldn’t be
Well, needless to say, the next morning came and I felt like poo-poo. I thought about calling in as it had been awhile since I last did that, but remembered the look my boss had given me the prior day and decided that I had better go in for better or for worse. I made it there on time, sat down, started working, started feeling bad, kept working, started yawning, and just kept feeling worse. It wasn’t the nausea as that has rarely been an issue when I am hungover, but the headache and the exhaustion were killing me. I needed to go home and it needed to be soon. I knew I would probably be in trouble, but I was accomplishing nothing while I was there, so why not? That’s when I hatched my plan.
Because I didn’t work at an airport, I definitely did not work in an old airplane hangar that had been converted into office space. If I did, however, I would guess that the walls would have been pretty thin. Given those non-facts, I made my way into the bathroom and closed the door to a stall that shared a wall with my office and where I knew I could be heard. I then proceeded to make noises as if I was vomiting into the toilet. It was very convincing. I added the cough and sniffles and everything else I could think of just for effect. I washed my face off, walked back into my office which I may or may not have shared with a guy named Rod (fake name) and said over the course of a longer conversation “man Rod, I feel fine, but I keep throwing up. I’ve been doing it since last night. We didn’t even make it to Slow Eddie’s because halfway up there I had to have Carol pull off to the side of the road so that I could throw up. We just went home after that.”
I then went back to my desk and repeated this process of going to the bathroom and “vomiting” about 3 more times over the next hour. The funny thing is, I was actually coming out of my hangover due to the excitement of my new project. The adrenaline had me going, but I was already this far in and I was not turning back. I was dedicated.
After my last trip to the bathroom, I came back with a very concerned look on my face. My boss was gone for the day but my supervisor was there and standing in my office.
Perfect.
“Marie (fake name),” I said, knowing that she was well aware of my frequent trips to the bathroom that morning, “I’ve got to go to the doctor. I’ve been throwing up all morning but this last time I was throwing up a little bit of blood.”
Marie gave me a look of disbelief but told me to do what I had to do. I went to my desk, called my doctor (who amazingly enough had the same phone number as my house) and made an appointment to go in and see him that afternoon. I left my office, told Marie that I would be back tomorrow, and left for the day.
I don’t remember if I did anything fun that day. I really don’t think that I did. In fact, I probably went home, played some playstation, took a nap, and that was about it. Whatever I did though was sure better than being at work. But I still had to come up with a reason that I was throwing up blood. I knew they thought that I was hungover (correct) and that I was faking the extent of my illness (also correct) so I really needed something good when I came back in. It was like that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off where he said “This is my ninth sick day this semester. If I go for 10, I’m going to half to cough up a lung.” This was figuratively my 10th day.
On the way into work the next morning I still had nothing. Well, I had something, but I didn’t think anybody would believe it. It was outrageous and I would be immediately busted. As I walked in the front door I was a little freaked out because I had a long hallway I had to go down prior to reaching my office. Along that hallway was my bosses office and seeing as I didn’t have my excuse panned out yet, I was really hoping she wasn’t in there yet. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I passed her office she saw me and called me in to ask what had happened yesterday. I still didn’t have anything good so I went with what I had been toying with. I was screwed.
“Oh my God Brandy (fake name),” I said with a scratchy voice “it’s so gross I don’t think I want to tell you”
“Well,” Brandy said “It better be good”
“OK, well, apparently (get ready for it) while sleeping or something one night, a bug crawled into my mouth and made a sort of nest in the back of my throat. I had noticed my throat being a little scratchy lately, but didn’t think much of it. Well, apparently through eating and swallowing and everything, I irritated it and whatever nest or eggs or whatever were in there broke open and started oozing into my stomach – hence the vomiting.”
She looked at me half disgusted and half in disbelief. I needed more. Details were key.
“Thankfully, the blood that I was throwing up wasn’t from my stomach lining, but instead was from where the nest had been and I was more or less just throwing up the blood that had already drained down there.”
She was totally buying it, so now I just needed to send it home
“They spent about 10 minutes scraping the rest off the back of my throat, gave me an antibiotic, and sent me home. All in all it was pretty gross.”
It was silent for a few seconds while she tried to figure out how to respond to that.
I waited.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she finally said sounding very concerned.
VICTORY!!
I had won. I had pulled a story out of my ass, laid it on the ground in front of my boss for her to trample on, and had gotten away with it. I was fully expecting for her to call my bluff and reprimand me both for leaving work early and for coming in with a bullshit story, but she didn’t. In fact, I even worked another half day off out of it later that week for a follow-up visit with my “doctor.” I had won.
Sort of
One of the things that I didn’t count on with a story like that is its staying power. Not only was I required to repeat that story to my coworkers all day long, but I was also required by Rod to repeat it to any new hires that we had coming in for the next 3+ years. I actually got so good at repeating the story that not one person ever doubted me to my face. It was embarrassing after awhile because I realized I had become “bug boy”, but at the same time, it was awesome.
I look back at that story now, however, with a little bit of sadness. First of all, I feel bad that I took advantage of my coworkers. I also feel bad that I had gotten to such a point with sick days that it was necessary that I come up with such an asinine story. I was young, I was stupid, I was irresponsible. I get it. I don’t do that anymore since I’ve had Ben. Yes, I may take the occasional day off, but I do it so infrequently that it’s not even an issue. I respect my job, my responsibilities, and my co-workers too much to do that. Plus, I wouldn’t want to put myself in a situation where my job is in jeopardy. I guess you could say that I’ve grown up.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to a doctor’s appointment. Apparently my hair loss has spawned a massive sinus infection which has spread to my eyes which gives me the appearance of having been up all night at a stripclub. See ya later!!
The problem with this was I would often wake up around 10:00 or 10:30, realize how many times I had pulled this recently, feel guilty for about 5 minutes and contemplate going in for the afternoon, realize I told them I had a fever or nausea (which were no-no’s in terms of going into the office), and then soak in guilt the rest of the day because I knew I’d probably be talked to about my excessive absences when I got in the next day. It’s amazing how 10:30 a.m. thinking is so much more lucid than 7:00 a.m. thinking. Oh well, what choice did I have at that point other than to enjoy the day?
Let’s get back to the excuses though.
I had all sorts of excuses. I used anything from the flu to a bad back to stomach viruses. I was convincing too. The initial phone call would usually provide many more details than would normally need to be shared, but I wanted them to know that I sure would make it in if I could, but these extenuating circumstances are really preventing me from doing so. Sometimes, I was so convincing that I needed a second day off to make sure that I was fully recovered. Then, once I returned to work I would continue playing the part to hammer home the point that I was really, really sick. I know, I know, I’m a horrible person but if anyone reading this can honestly say that they’ve never faked being sick and took a random day off here or there, you can throw the first stone at me.
Well, I’m still standing here stone free so I’ll continue.
My favorite excuse of all time is a little unsettling. It’s a story I concocted pretty much on the spot and was amazed that a) anyone believed me, and b) that anyone wanted to be anywhere near me afterwards. I will use fake names and locations to protect the innocent (even though I’m pretty sure none of them read my blog), and to also protect myself from prosecution.
Having a big mouth in those days, I was always spouting off on what I was going out to do that night. This was back in the days when Carol and I were dating and living together (GASP!!) but still not married. We were both prone to going out and having a good time whenever we could and since Carol’s work schedule often gave her days off in the middle of the week, we would often consume a few frosty beverages on those nights. On this particular night we were going to Slow Eddie’s (fake name) in Not-Alton, IL (fake city) to meet some friends for a few drinks. As I mentioned this at work, my boss kind of gave me a look as if to say “you’d better not be hungover tomorrow.” I assured them that we were only going for dinner and then were heading right back home. I would not be hungover.
Of course I wouldn’t be
Well, needless to say, the next morning came and I felt like poo-poo. I thought about calling in as it had been awhile since I last did that, but remembered the look my boss had given me the prior day and decided that I had better go in for better or for worse. I made it there on time, sat down, started working, started feeling bad, kept working, started yawning, and just kept feeling worse. It wasn’t the nausea as that has rarely been an issue when I am hungover, but the headache and the exhaustion were killing me. I needed to go home and it needed to be soon. I knew I would probably be in trouble, but I was accomplishing nothing while I was there, so why not? That’s when I hatched my plan.
Because I didn’t work at an airport, I definitely did not work in an old airplane hangar that had been converted into office space. If I did, however, I would guess that the walls would have been pretty thin. Given those non-facts, I made my way into the bathroom and closed the door to a stall that shared a wall with my office and where I knew I could be heard. I then proceeded to make noises as if I was vomiting into the toilet. It was very convincing. I added the cough and sniffles and everything else I could think of just for effect. I washed my face off, walked back into my office which I may or may not have shared with a guy named Rod (fake name) and said over the course of a longer conversation “man Rod, I feel fine, but I keep throwing up. I’ve been doing it since last night. We didn’t even make it to Slow Eddie’s because halfway up there I had to have Carol pull off to the side of the road so that I could throw up. We just went home after that.”
I then went back to my desk and repeated this process of going to the bathroom and “vomiting” about 3 more times over the next hour. The funny thing is, I was actually coming out of my hangover due to the excitement of my new project. The adrenaline had me going, but I was already this far in and I was not turning back. I was dedicated.
After my last trip to the bathroom, I came back with a very concerned look on my face. My boss was gone for the day but my supervisor was there and standing in my office.
Perfect.
“Marie (fake name),” I said, knowing that she was well aware of my frequent trips to the bathroom that morning, “I’ve got to go to the doctor. I’ve been throwing up all morning but this last time I was throwing up a little bit of blood.”
Marie gave me a look of disbelief but told me to do what I had to do. I went to my desk, called my doctor (who amazingly enough had the same phone number as my house) and made an appointment to go in and see him that afternoon. I left my office, told Marie that I would be back tomorrow, and left for the day.
I don’t remember if I did anything fun that day. I really don’t think that I did. In fact, I probably went home, played some playstation, took a nap, and that was about it. Whatever I did though was sure better than being at work. But I still had to come up with a reason that I was throwing up blood. I knew they thought that I was hungover (correct) and that I was faking the extent of my illness (also correct) so I really needed something good when I came back in. It was like that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off where he said “This is my ninth sick day this semester. If I go for 10, I’m going to half to cough up a lung.” This was figuratively my 10th day.
On the way into work the next morning I still had nothing. Well, I had something, but I didn’t think anybody would believe it. It was outrageous and I would be immediately busted. As I walked in the front door I was a little freaked out because I had a long hallway I had to go down prior to reaching my office. Along that hallway was my bosses office and seeing as I didn’t have my excuse panned out yet, I was really hoping she wasn’t in there yet. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I passed her office she saw me and called me in to ask what had happened yesterday. I still didn’t have anything good so I went with what I had been toying with. I was screwed.
“Oh my God Brandy (fake name),” I said with a scratchy voice “it’s so gross I don’t think I want to tell you”
“Well,” Brandy said “It better be good”
“OK, well, apparently (get ready for it) while sleeping or something one night, a bug crawled into my mouth and made a sort of nest in the back of my throat. I had noticed my throat being a little scratchy lately, but didn’t think much of it. Well, apparently through eating and swallowing and everything, I irritated it and whatever nest or eggs or whatever were in there broke open and started oozing into my stomach – hence the vomiting.”
She looked at me half disgusted and half in disbelief. I needed more. Details were key.
“Thankfully, the blood that I was throwing up wasn’t from my stomach lining, but instead was from where the nest had been and I was more or less just throwing up the blood that had already drained down there.”
She was totally buying it, so now I just needed to send it home
“They spent about 10 minutes scraping the rest off the back of my throat, gave me an antibiotic, and sent me home. All in all it was pretty gross.”
It was silent for a few seconds while she tried to figure out how to respond to that.
I waited.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she finally said sounding very concerned.
VICTORY!!
I had won. I had pulled a story out of my ass, laid it on the ground in front of my boss for her to trample on, and had gotten away with it. I was fully expecting for her to call my bluff and reprimand me both for leaving work early and for coming in with a bullshit story, but she didn’t. In fact, I even worked another half day off out of it later that week for a follow-up visit with my “doctor.” I had won.
Sort of
One of the things that I didn’t count on with a story like that is its staying power. Not only was I required to repeat that story to my coworkers all day long, but I was also required by Rod to repeat it to any new hires that we had coming in for the next 3+ years. I actually got so good at repeating the story that not one person ever doubted me to my face. It was embarrassing after awhile because I realized I had become “bug boy”, but at the same time, it was awesome.
I look back at that story now, however, with a little bit of sadness. First of all, I feel bad that I took advantage of my coworkers. I also feel bad that I had gotten to such a point with sick days that it was necessary that I come up with such an asinine story. I was young, I was stupid, I was irresponsible. I get it. I don’t do that anymore since I’ve had Ben. Yes, I may take the occasional day off, but I do it so infrequently that it’s not even an issue. I respect my job, my responsibilities, and my co-workers too much to do that. Plus, I wouldn’t want to put myself in a situation where my job is in jeopardy. I guess you could say that I’ve grown up.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to a doctor’s appointment. Apparently my hair loss has spawned a massive sinus infection which has spread to my eyes which gives me the appearance of having been up all night at a stripclub. See ya later!!
In my best Jeannie Bueller/Jennifer Grey voice, through clenched teeth, "I knew it!"
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