Navigation
Humor and Running Fiction
The Art of Calling in Sick
By Bernie GreeneSeptember/October 2002
For the Washington Running Report
BOSS: Do you feel any better?
EMPLOYEE: I'm too sick to tell.
-Neil Simon
I enjoy convalescence. It's the part
that makes illness worthwhile.
-George Bernard Shaw
[Monday, 6 a.m.] You've only been awake for a nanosecond, but it's long enough to realize you're still bummed. You didn't get a chance to do a long run over the weekend because your spouse blitzkrieged your plans. What to do?
You decide to call in sick (which, technically speaking, you are because the thought of missing your long run and jeopardizing your shot at a PR in next month's marathon is making you ill). That's why God invented sick days! you say to yourself in a rare moment of insight. They're for those delicious weekday long runs laced with a sense of both entitlement and getting away with something. After the run, I can eat a leisurely breakfast, put my feet up and read the paper, and then head over to the multiplex and watch two flicks for the price of one. Maybe I'll even stop by the pub for a few brews before supper. What a great day this is going to be!
Whoa there, Heineken Breath. You still have three hurdles to clear before you can have your sinfully sublime "sick" day. You've got to (1) come up with a believable illness or injury, (2) convince your boss that you have it, and (3) develop a plan of behavior to implement upon your return to the office----one that is consistent with your having had the illness or injury, one that will persuade your co-workers (who may be in a collective snit because you were on leave when they weren't) and your boss (who may have lingering doubts about the truthfulness of your explanation for being absent from work) that you really, really were sick or injured.
That's where Washington Running Report comes in. Instead of laying out a bunch of training programs and then leaving you in the lurch like all of the other running publications, WRR gives you everything you need to know to make the prescribed runs happen.
Anyway, without further tooting of our own horn, we present the definitive primer for runners who wish to call in sick:
The Call
The make-or-break phone call to your boss must be (1) illness- or injury-specific and (2) absolutely clear. You can't just babble into the phone (that is, unless you're calling in mentally ill). And forget namby-pamby euphemisms like "unwell," "ailing," "indisposed," and "under the weather." They just invite more questions and take the conversation where you don't want it to go, to wit: "Well, maybe you'll feel better in a couple hours and come to work." This, dear runner, is the time for forthright, unabashed hyperbole (as in "Hey, I'm freakin' dying here----I've been blowing chunks since 2 a.m.").
The Return
As alluded to earlier, when you return to the office, you can't just walk in, sit down, and start working as though nothing has happened. The social landscape there has been altered by your day off. Remember, while you were running long and generally leading the life of Riley, your co-workers were putting in a hard eight hours and your boss was doing a slow burn because he had one less employee to micromanage. Ergo, unless you want to be responsible for fomenting cubicle rage among your co-workers (which, along with your boss's suspicions, will become part of your permanent record), you must spend as much time as is necessary convincing your fellow workers and your boss of your dire need to take off work.
Nota bene: Because you will be watched closely, perhaps for days, you must guard against the unguarded moment. We cannot stress that enough. Vigilance must be the watchword because just when you think no one is looking, someone will be looking.
Being under intense scrutiny also means that no detail is too small to omit from your choreographed movements and rehearsed spiels. Not to put too fine a point on it, but all of your energy must be channeled into reinforcing the idea that it was not humanly possible for you to come to work.
General Dos and Don'ts
Use sunscreen on your run. (If you're too dumb to know why, you are reading the wrong publication.)
Record a new message (one that lends credence to your illness or injury) on your answering machine at home, and make sure it says you're in too much agony to answer the phone.
Tape the soaps and daytime talk shows, watch them in the evening, and natter about specific inane plots and off-the-wall talk-show guests when you return to work. (Telling co-workers you intend to become an advocate for high-quality daytime TV is also a nice touch.)
Lower expectations by telling your boss you may have to take two or three days off. Go back to work after just one day and you're practically Cal Ripken.
Don't say or do anything that indicates you were out of the house on your sick day (other than to go see your doctor). After all, a person who was too debilitated to answer the phone couldn't have had the strength to gallivant outside.
If you slip up at the office and someone catches a whiff of duplicity, you must nip it in the bud before it spins out of control. Just sidle up to the person who thinks you're putting on an act and ladle on the love. Look him in the eye, clap him on the back, call him by his preferred nickname, and suck up like there's no tomorrow. Then invite him to a party at your place: "Hey, you're coming to my Super Bowl bash, aren't you? It wouldn't be a party without you, Ace----you're my main man. Oh, and don't forget to bring your stomach because it's gonna be an orgy of chips, dips, and beer."
That concludes our list of general dos and don'ts. We now present our compilation of illnesses and injuries selected specifically for their capacity to get you a sick day when you need one:
Woes That Work
Run With the Runs
If you have an overdeveloped conscience and don't want to tell your boss a complete falsehood, then saying you have the runs is the way to go. (Go, get it? Hahahahaha.) Not only does it give your conscience some wiggle room, but it also allows for a wide range of choices when you deliver the bad news to your boss.
In our opinion, the most effective way to call in diarrhea is to use your cell phone and make the call from your bathroom, where you can flush the toilet at strategic moments during the pitch to your boss. And remember to present your case in your most washed-out, listless voice: "It might be a touch of dysentery. [Ka-floosh.]
I found a half-full water bottle on the trail during my long run yesterday, and I was so thirsty I took a swig. Then last evening, the trots hit big time. I've never had 'em this bad before. Gotta stay close to the john. [Ka-floosh.] As soon as there is a break in the action----and if I'm not too weak and woozy----my wife is going to drive me to the emergency room."
The morning of your return to work, practice moving in a languid manner (you're dehydrated, don'cha know) and use some makeup to achieve that wan, hollow-eyed look. Enter your place of work singing the praises of Imodium, Pepto-Bismol, or Kaopectate---- and display the bottle prominently on your desk, along with a roll of toilet paper and the tea, saltines, and Jell-O you've brought for lunch.
Lastly, if you are the kind to go the extra mile, you will want to leave your briefcase open so that anyone who stops by your office or cubicle can catch a glimpse of the spare pair of underwear you've been carrying around.
Dial M for Migraine
Migraines just happen. Nobody knows why they happen, but everybody knows someone who suffers from them. The pain is so intense that the hum of a laser printer could send an upstanding employee like you into a full-blown psychosis. If, when calling your boss, you emphasize excruciating, one-sided pain ("It feels as if someone is sawing my right temple with a dull knife") and allude to the aforementioned psychosis, we wager that your boss will say, "How many days off do you need?"
The beauty of the migraine gambit lies in the simplicity of your performance when you return to work. All you have to do is wear sunglasses, speak softly, and remember which temple it was.
The Wise Pick Wisdom Teeth
What kind of deviant would fake oral surgery? You would! And the tooth to have yanked is, of course, a wisdom tooth.
There are at least five factors that make the ol' wisdom-tooth ploy a wise choice: (1) everyone knows that a wisdom tooth can go bad in nothing flat, (2) the call to your boss is easy because there is no need to modify your voice, (3) you only need to take four props with you when you return to work (a roll of cherry Life Savers, a wad of gum or cotton, a quart of home-made salt-water rinse, and a spit jar), (4) no one at the office will want to look that far back in your mouth, and (5) once you've established that your teeth are going south, you can call in a bad wisdom tooth three more times.
The Ins and Outs of Lumbago Lying
Back pain, especially the feigned kind, has been the second leading cause of lost job time in America every year for the past 50 years. So why shouldn't you join the crowd and benefit from the groundwork laid by generations of employees?
Look up the symptoms of sciatica or a lumbar disk problem in a medical dictionary and craft your pitch to your boss around them. Better yet, tell him or her something fuzzy like "My back went out again yesterday." (The wording is crucial: "Out" is so general that you can spin it any way you want when you return to work, and "again" says it's a recurrent condition----one that is almost congenital and that you haven't a whit of control over.) Pause for a moment to let your boss try to wrap his or her mind around your generalization. Then slightly slur the clincher: "My doc phoned in a refill for my mushcle-relaxant preshcription and told me to shtay in bed."
Borrow your bodybuilding buddy's back-support belt and wear it to work for the next week. Sit and stand gingerly, and list to one side when you walk----all of which you won't have to fake if you hammered the hills on your sick-day run.
Win One (Day Off) for the Gimper
In the pantheon of bogus injuries, none ranks higher than a chipped bone in one's foot. There is no outward evidence of it other than a pretended limp. Hence, your boss and fellow workers just have to take your word for it: "The ER doc says I'm lucky. I only chipped a bone in my right foot when I dropped the rock in the garden yesterday. It's not really broken, but I have to keep the foot immobile for 48 hours. Can't drive."
If your boss starts asking too many questions, turn the tables on him. Pepper him with questions about worker's compensation insurance and whether it might cover your injury.
(This is a no-brainer, but we thought we'd mention it anyway: The chipped-bone ruse is the best choice if you intend to do your long run on a rocky trail----i.e., a trail that has a high probability of leaving you with a legitimate limp.)
Those of you with a flair for embellishment will want to add an Ace bandage to your accoutrements. Wrap it around your foot and then stuff your foot into a slipper for maximum effect at the office.
Finally, we would be remiss if we did not warn you that there is a twofold downside to calling in chipped bone: (1) your limp must slowly get better over time, which is not an easy thing to simulate (and don't think that the nuances of reasonable day-to- day change will be lost on those watching you), and (2) your boss may ask to see the X-rays of your foot (in which case, you may turn out to be a chipped bonehead).
Pitching Poison Ivy on Your Private Parts
The story line goes like this: You made an unscheduled pit stop in the park during your long run yesterday, and...naw, let's not go there.
The Streptococcus Strategy
Strep throat is an ideal illness to feign because to fool most laymen, you only have to feign one symptom: the sore throat.
Okay, repeat after us in a raspy whisper: "My throat is on fire. The advice nurse said it could be strep. She wants me to come in for a throat culture. She also told me to take the day off and rest so that it doesn't turn into something worse."
Playing the streptococcus card when you return to work is as easy as ABC. A: Purchase an economy-sized bottle of Chloraseptic, pour out one-third, and put it in a place of prominence (on your file cabinet, say). B: When your boss and co- workers try to pump you for info, just point at your throat, shake your head from side to side, and mouth the words "I can't talk." C: When you get tired of doing that, hang a sign saying "STILL COMMUNICABLE" on your office door or the entrance to your cube. That should buy you some solitude. (However, if you have a tendency toward over-the-top performances, you can augment the above routine with loud saltwater gargling every hour on the hour.)
A final word: If, for any reason, your sick-day charade comes a cropper and you are found out, you're on your own. We are far too busy to spend our valuable time extricating our readers from predicaments of their own making.
When asked how he came by his detailed knowledge of calling in sick, Bernie Greene said, and we quote, "I picked the brains of a lot of people who say they've done it." He added that he himself would never do such a thing.