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Under the Weather, Under the Gun
By Dana Tuszke |
January 17, 2008
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Read more: sick day, working mothers, home/office
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Two weeks ago my son, Dawson, came down with a terrible cold. He was whiny. He wouldn't eat. He was barely able to swallow a few tablespoons of Pedialyte. He was miserable, and I was getting there. Because my husband is the primary bread winner of our household, I called in sick to work to take care of our little one.
Like most people, I hate missing work due to an illness. I worry about getting behind with my duties and losing sales and productivity because I haven't worked as many days in the month as my co-workers. I also suffer an irrational fear that my boss thinks I'm calling in just to avoid having to sell another set of hearing aids. As much as I love a day off, taking a sick day to care for a three-year-old who can't blow his own nose is no cup of tea.
After two days of forcing fluids and watching back-to-back episodes of Go, Diego, Go and Spongebob Squarepants, Dawson was still not feeling better, and I was near death. It started with a sore throat, gradually getting so horrible that I couldn't talk, followed by a runny nose, congestion, fever, migraines and body aches. It was inevitable. I would have to use three more sick days. Every morning as my husband got ready to go to work, I begged him to start picking out my funeral casket because I was certain I wouldn't make it through the day.
I cursed the germs that were taking over my body. I prayed to the Gods, hoping for a magic spell to make me healthy again. I even told Dawson that he was never going to daycare again, because I was certain that's where the virus came from in the first place. Stick 12 kids in a room for eight hours a day during the cold winter months and someone is bound to catch a cold.
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As I was laying in bed, trying to kick the cold, my boss was panicking. He called several times a day to "see how I was feeling" but what he really meant was, "Can you help me with __________?"
What I was thinking: "I can barely get out of bed to take Sudafed and you want me to work from home? Are you serious?"
What I said: "Uh, yeah. Sure. You can find that information in the filing cabinet under __________________."
Excluding childbirth and a minor back injury a couple years ago, I have rarely missed more than a day or two because of a sick child, or being sick myself. This was the first time any manager had called me at home to help with work stuff.
I do my best not to work from home, and I work hard to not worry about my job when I'm not on duty. Working in a competitive industry like hearing health care, I sometimes work through lunches and read through memos and e-mails when I get home, just to stay on top of the game. I just can't bear to be behind schedule.
During the five days I was locked in the house barking like a seal and blowing through four boxes of Kleenex, I managed to reply to e-mails and check in on the office at least once a day. When I finally returned to the office, a mountain of paperwork had accumulated on my desk and thirty-five voice mails were waiting to be responded to.
My boss was not as understanding as I hoped he would be. Every conversation began with, "While you were sick..." and "I know you're just starting to feel better, but..."
It was then that I realized I wasn't easily replaceable. The flow of our office depended on me being there to field telephone calls, reply to e-mails and follow-up on sales leads.
I felt like I had adopted another child. Not only did I have to nurse my son back to health, but I had to nurse my office back to efficiency.
After two days of playing catch-up, I traveled to our corporate office for a sales meeting. I had missed a conference call while I was out, and no one bothered to fill me in on the details. I felt like an ugly step child. Because I was out of the loop, I was the only person asking questions while the others looked at me as though I was speaking Greek.
What they were thinking: "Gees, Dana. Get with the program. We talked about this last Thursday."
What I was thinking: "Oh, okay. Except, I was out sick last Thursday and I didn't receive the usual 500 memos that follow every phone conference. It would be nice if someone could have filled me in before I drove 90 miles to waste my time."
What my boss said: "We'll go over this, one on one, after the meeting. Just try to follow along."
What I said: "Sure. Sorry to interrupt. I'll just take good notes."
As the meeting progressed, I realized that we were discussing the same "urgent" topics that we covered six meetings ago. I figured I hadn't missed much at all, until I was asked to talk about some of the successful sales tactics I had been implementing that had attributed to achieving my sales goals last year.
He wants me to speak? In front of 60 of my co-workers? Without any preparation? This was so not fair, I thought.
I took a deep breath and began improvising. Just like I told Dawson that Diego takes a nap three times a day and that's why we can't watch him on television all the time, I told my co-workers just how important is to never miss a day of work, even if you've contracted pneumonia or worse yet, malaria; because the company just can't function without you. Everyone laughed, and the boss nodded his head and said, "It's so good to have the company's stand-up comedian back at work." I'm taking it as a compliment. How funny would it be to call in sick tomorrow? |
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| Dana began her motherhood career with the birth of her son in 2004. When she isn't fulfilling toddler demands or watching episodes of Bob the Builder against her will, she enjoys writing about her crazy life at The Dana Files. Dana is also a contributing editor at BlogHer.org, where she writes about politics from a conservative viewpoint. Monday through Friday Dana works as a Patient Care Coordinator in the field of Audiology, and she loves her job because she gets paid to repeat herself. |
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