Work Ethic

Earlier this week I was sick as a dog. As soon as I woke up I knew I was in bad shape. I have crap loads of sick time and my boss knows I almost never call off. But I figured I felt bad because I had overindulged the night before, therefore there would be no calling off. It's okay to call off if it's some microbe's fault, but not if it's the result of me being careless. So I forced myself through my morning routine and left for work.

By the time I got to work, I realized that my state wasn't the result of one beer too many (which if I would have really thought about it would it would have occured to me that I hadn't had enough to drink to feel like this) but the flu bug that's been going around. But I was already at work. If I'm well enough to drive, I'm well enough to work, and I had stuff to get done. And if I needed to yak, I could dash to the bathroom.

Staying turned out to be unproductive, but for different reasons. There was a guy there to service our powerlift, and he needed to change some part buried inside it. A part that would require cutting open the lift to get at. Which means he had to run a hose from his air compressor in his truck through our back door to run his saw and metal grinder. I had to sit back there for 6 hours (fortunately there was a well timed break) while he cut and ground heavy duty steel.

Good thing it wasn't a hang over. That would have been hell.