I was at the grocery store near my work picking up a few things for lunch. I strolled over to the express line, dropped my stuff, and it was all scanned through. After the bagger was done loading it up in a plastic bag, the register lady turns to her and the following conversation ensues.
Register Lady: “So you feeling any better?
Bagger: “No, I feel terrible”
Oh boy. Not exactly what you want to hear from someone who just handled all your food. And not the pre packaged kind of food. It was the deli counter with the make your own salad kind of food that is not vaccuum sealed. I hoped it wouldn’t get worse. It did.
Register Lady: “So do they doctors know what it is? Maybe it is pneumonia?”
Bagger: “They are not sure, could be pneumonia, bronchitis, or maybe croup?”
Wait, what???!!! They don’t know what it is? Pneumonia?? Croup?? Bronchitis?? Exactly what the fuck are you doing at work, much less handling food. I took a look over because I really wasn’t paying a ton of attention until that point, and man, the bagger looked rough. Like Kevin Spacey toward the end of Outbreak kind of rough. She was pale, sweaty, boogery, and had just finished touching and loading all my food into the bag I was now holding. She even had some kind of untreated lip sore, all crusty, bloody, and gross. It took every ounce of strength not to scream out, “why the hell are you here working a food service job when a Dr doesn’t even know what funky-ass disease you are currently carrying?!” I quickly walked out, threw away my food, and slumped back to the office where I ate 3 bags of lays potato chips for lunch. Depression never tasted so good (could have been worse, the vending machine could have only had Dipsy Doodles) Don’t know if you have ever had Dispy Doodles, but here is a little secret…they suck.
As I sat in my office, crying into my third bag of chips, I suddenly remembered the conversation I had with a friend a few days earlier. She was talking about someone from her work who came in to the office sick…again. It has happened so many times, the person’s nickname is “sicky”. The pattern is always the same. Into the office comes Sicky, who then tells everyone how bad he feels. This continues throughout the day, with each update getting progressively worse. All the while, Sicky is coughing, sneezing, and snotting all over everything in the office and fully polluting all common areas. Sicky will then leave the office only after touching all the food, mugs, water bottles, and paper. This ensures every square inch is covered with disgusting funk, before slipping out the door with about an hour left until quitting time. I have an idea for Sicky. If you ever say the words, “I think I have the flu” that is a clue to go the fuck home and isolate yourself from normal people who are not stupid enough to go out when they are sick.
It has also been happening at my work for some time and the frustration was really starting to boil up prior to the grocery incident. I would go into the kitchen to get my lunch and there would be a couple people sitting at 3 different tables talking to each other about how sick they are. Their voices all pinched and nasal, like they had all been in Vegas for 3 days on a cocaine bender. Not only are they at work sick and spreading germs, they make sure to sit at all 3 tables in the kitchen to maximize their funk spread. If I had a black light the mucus would probably light up like a Holiday Inn bedspread. Just like clock work, the next 5 days after this kitchen “meeting” people in the office begin dropping like flies.
Here is the thing, if you are sick, do everyone a favor and stay the fuck home. If you have lots of boogers, a cough, sneezing, and just don’t feel well, take the day off. You work isn’t going anywhere. It will be there waiting for you. There are many people who have families with children and we get enough funky germs from their schools. We don’t need you, an adult who should know better, making shit even more difficult than it already is. Once the germs are in the house, you are totally boned. You get sick. Then your kid gets sick and doubles the amount of time you have to use valuable vacation days to stay home with them. The worst is when my wife and son are simultaneously sick, otherwise known as the San Diego Shit Sandwich. After the fun of those two days you are praying for death or work, and really don’t care which one comes first. Start being part of the solution not the problem. Stay home when you are sick. Everyone will thank you for it.
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