This is precisely why I think blogging is vain. One has the impulse to write all kinds of minutiae that does not matter to anybody but the writer.
But it’s true. We’re sick. Ms. Pearl and I have the flu. She’s got a fever and is napping off and on all day. I am achy and stuffy and taking lots of fluids. It’s impossible for me to stay up longer than 3 hours. Day Quil and Ny Quil. Ms. Pearl’s on cocktails of tylenol for fever reduction and robitussin between Tylenol doses.
Here’s the thing that kind of makes me grumpy.
All week last week, two of the fellas I work with came in sick. They were all snotting and hacking all over the place. Each two days at least. Nobody told them to go home. Nobody acted like they were some kind of icky disease transmitters.
Of course, the first day I go to work all sicky, I get sent home when I’m not there for a full hour. Does that seem fair to you? My right to spread illness is less than my colleagues’?
Of all of my colleagues, I suspect I am in the least good financial position to take days off, for any reason.
Maybe it’s really true that they are trying to get the illness out of the building. Maybe it is really true that they are sick of the sickness. But why send me home and not them? Why wait until I come in sick to start to try to get rid of the sickness?
Am I annoyed by this because I am constantly on guard because I am a woman and as such the rules are different for me? Am I annoyed because of the implicit double standard? Am I annoyed because I am sick and feel like utter hell? Am I annoyed because I had no patience for Pearl today?
We’re sick. And we wouldn’t be if the show room hadn’t been filled with icky sicky for four out of six days last week. I just hope my other two colleagues don’t get it. If they do and they’re allowed to come to work, I am going to throw a fit. Maybe I should throw one now.