Encore: Calling in well

Five years ago I wrote this post about calling in well. Having just reread it, I think in some ways it's a timely article because of what's going on in the world right now.

Maybe, maybe not.

The point is I wanted to put up a post and I didn't want to have to write one.

Is that so wrong? Don't answer that.

Anyone can call in sick. When you’re fighting muscle aches, nausea, diarrhea and a 101-degree fever it’s a no brainer.

Of course, we’ve all been around those people who drag their sorry selves in no matter what, looking like they just finished auditioning for Contagion II. For some inexplicable reason – perhaps an overdeveloped sense of importance, a crippling fear of being fired if they miss a day, or just to get even with everyone they work with who don’t give them the recognition they deserve, they feel it’s their civic duty to keep working until they drop.

But if you ask anyone who’s ever worked with me, after they stop denying it, they’ll tell you in no uncertain terms that’s never been my problem.

Sniffles? Home for three days. That’s the spirit.

I used to work with this guy at an agency who would occasionally call in well to work. He’d wake up in the morning feeling great, optimistic, ready to take on the world. On those days, he’d call the agency, get someone on the line and say, “I won’t be in today. I feel too damn good to come to work.”

I’m all in favor of the concept.

Some shops give you a couple mental days or personal days off a year. I suppose they think you should use those if you’re going to call in well. I think it’s a matter of expanding the definition of sick. As in, it would make me sick to go into work feeling this good.

Which brings me to another point (assuming I had one in the first place): maybe it’s time to reconsider the name “sick days.” If people are going to start calling in well – as they should – the days allotted should reflect that policy.

Maybe a combination of sick and well, a term that would define and describe the days for exactly what they are. Let’s call them Swell Days™.

Although technically, that could be any day you’re not in the office.

Calling in well

Anyone can call in sick. When you’re fighting muscle aches, nausea, diarrhea and a 101-degree fever it’s a no brainer.

Of course, we’ve all been around those people who drag their sorry selves in no matter what, looking like they just finished auditioning for Contagion II. For some inexplicable reason – perhaps an overdeveloped sense of importance, a crippling fear of being fired if they miss a day, or just to get even with everyone they work with who don’t give them the recognition they deserve, they feel it’s their civic duty to keep working until they drop.

But if you ask anyone who’s ever worked with me, after they stop denying it, they’ll tell you in no uncertain terms that’s never been my problem.

Sniffles? Home for three days. That’s the spirit.

I used to work with this guy at an agency who would occasionally call in well to work. He’d wake up in the morning feeling great, optimistic, ready to take on the world. On those days, he’d call the agency, get someone on the line and say, “I won’t be in today. I feel too damn good to come to work.”

I’m all in favor of the concept.

Some shops give you a couple mental days or personal days off a year. I suppose they think you should use those if you’re going to call in well. I think it’s a matter of expanding the definition of sick. As in, it would make me sick to go into work feeling this good.

Which brings me to another point (assuming I had one in the first place): maybe it’s time to reconsider the name “sick days.” If people are going to start calling in well – as they should – the days allotted should reflect that policy.

Maybe a combination of sick and well, a term that would define and describe the days for exactly what they are. Let’s call them Swell Days™.

Although technically, that could be any day you’re not in the office.

The other hack

I’m not a good patient. Never have been. And the fact that right now I’m on my sixth day of being down with some virus obviously hatched in a deep, dark part of the Brazilian rain forest, Amazon adjacent, isn’t doing anything to make me a better one.

I’m not sure exactly what it is, but this unpleasant little bug has been making me cough my lungs up the entire time. A dry, hacking, rib-breaking cough which can be described, without getting too clinical, as “non-productive.”

This unrelenting cough of course means I’ve had absolutely no sleep to speak of for the last six nights. I have however caught up on some fine 3 a.m. cable offerings, like the original American Werewolf In London, Marathon Man and Godfather 3 (well, two out of three ain’t bad).

This all started with a sore throat last Thursday, went to chills, then to feeling a little warm – it all felt a bit flu-ey. But the main symptom is this incessant coughing that just won’t stop.

This morning I finally went to my doctor, who said they’ve been seeing a lot of this. It’s just a virus going around, and I have no real choice but to ride it out. Here’s the punchline: when I asked how long, he said it’s been running about three weeks.

Now Monday I start a new gig. And as I wrote about here, sick days aren’t one of the benefits a freelancer gets, at least not without watching the bank balance remain in an upright and locked position.

So I’ll just keep resting, drinking fluids and hope that the Vicodin cough syrup that was prescribed knocks me out enough to finally get some sleep tonight.

I’ve had this for six days, and I have six more to get over it before I start work. Not to sound completely mercenary, but all I’m thinking is what any freelancer in my position would be thinking.

With any luck, I’ll get past the cough in time for them to cough up the cash.