My Boss Hates When I Call In Sick

Crumpled Tissue

I almost (cough) didn't (cough) get a column (sniff) written this week (cough cough). I'm getting over a bout with walking pneumonia. For the past six or so days I've done nothing but sleep and indulge in a sadly appropriate binge-viewing of season three of The Walking Dead. (Rick for Governor!) I ventured out once to meet a friend from the East Coast for a simple breakfast, and felt like I'd run a marathon.

Given that this is my first experience not being a salaried employee, I hadn't dealt before this year with the lack of paid sick leave. For most of my career I had at least two weeks per year. I didn't always use it, but it was nice to have when I did get a flu or even really bad allergies. Nobody wants to hear you deliver the news on the radio with a stuffed nose, but I noticed there were no complaints on those days when my voice dropped to a raspy low-alto.