I woke up sick today. I thought about calling in sick and then I remembered: I don’t get sick days.
My employers aren’t stingy or anything. It’s not like my management team is trying to make my life miserable. In fact, my bosses love my work. They might even think the sun and moon rise because of the work I do on their behalf…even if they never say it.
They love the decisions I make unless they disagree with me. Although I must admit I hear about those decisions in raised voices and demonstrative behavior when this happens, so I always know where I stand. Frankly, I know they love me, even when we disagree on my choices.
However, they can be unreasonable, and when it comes to sick days, downright despotic. My excuses fall on deaf ears when they do filter through their narcissistic haze. Blinking eyes and uncomprehending stares barely register my confession that I am feeling a bit under the weather, so I won’t be reporting to work.
Despite what you must think reading this, they aren’t evil bosses. They have always made it a big point to celebrate my work with personal, handwritten notes. More than once, I have received one-of-a-kind works of art as a result of my efforts. They have been known to light up when I arrive at work or even just enter a room. My bosses usually stop what they are doing and bestow upon me a warm and enthusiastic greeting. I have no doubt that I am a valued member of the team.
They just don’t “do” sick days.
Obama’s Healthy Families Act isn’t going to help me either. I am one of the 39% of American workers who have no paid sick leave. I might have earned several sick days by now according to the parameters of his act, (21 in fact) but I still don’t have any. I was hoping maybe the local option might trickle down to my unenlightened employers, but it’s unlikely. Obama’s State of the Union Address and most media outlets are just something with which they can’t be bothered. They are deliberately ignorant of world events. Truthfully, I prefer that ignorance.
Not having sick days doesn’t exactly make me want to quit; after all, I need to do my job. It’s not like anyone else is doing it. Besides, there are many times I love my job. If I’m honest, I love my bosses for all their faults and shortcomings. Maybe even because of those shortcomings.
No education is required for my position, although it is helpful. I do have my degree, by the way if a Theatre degree counts that is. Honestly, sometimes it seems like all it takes is a little (or a lot) of Chardonnay and a pulse to qualify for my position. Clearly, it didn’t require an impenetrable immune system.
It is a job I always thought I would want, and although I don’t always feel that way, I do want my job. I signed up for it, warts and all. I sometimes wonder had I been acquainted with those warts if I would have been so delighted when I heard I got the job…but that’s beside the point. I am doing what I always knew I wanted to do, ever since I was a little girl. Unlike that little girl, I understand that there are pros and cons to everything, including my current profession, and we just have to accept that and save the grumbling for our blogs.
So even though I feel like I was hit by a truck, I rolled out of bed and reported to duty--although not before gulping down a couple of over-the-counter cold pills. After all, my job is not going to do itself.
As I walked into my office already a buzz with activity, my bosses, all three of them, looked up at me and said, “Mom? What’s for breakfast?”
Sigh.
I love my bosses. And it’s a good thing they like cereal.
This Post originally appeared on LinkedIn.
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