There is no sick bay at The World’s Largest Telecommunications Company anymore; when my mother worked for Ma Bell, her manager would tell her to go up the in company medical office and rest. Now our managers call out to the crew, “Row well and live! We keep you alive to serve this ship!” I woke up at seven this morning after passing out on NyQuil last night.
Funny thing about NyQuil, they changed the horrible licorice taste to a nasty smokey cherry flavor. I guzzled it directly out of the bottle. The next thing I remembered was Toonce clawing at my face meowing, “It’s light out. Didn’t you volunteer for two hours overtime?” I got up and took a shower to somehow wash the stench of death from me, fed my beloved ward and headed back down to the land of wonder what we call Oakland.
I arrived at the garage at exactly 9am thanks to the lack of traffic. Davy, the truck mechanic, passed by me bundled in a thick coat and greeted me, “You sick too?! Everyone else is.” I nodded, “Yes.” I walked into the manager’s office and said, “Please shoot me.” Marco replied, “I asked you the other day for you to finish me off and you refused.” We smiled. So here I am, they say if you keep moving you won’t die… I indeed on keeping moving. This too will pass