On working while impaired…

I’ve been under the weather the last few days.  Hmmm, did you ever wonder where that phrase came from?  Under the weather was how they used to describe a British seaman who was ill and thus had to be kept in his quarters below decks away from the wind and waves.  No longer out in the weather, he was safe below decks “under the weather”.  Of course, by that description, I don’t qualify, since I just keep coming to work.

I don’t know where the illness came from, since I’m in contact with hundreds of people in a week’s time, but I’d love to be able to blame this on someone.  The throat hurts, my voice is incapable of speaking much above a whisper, and the headache lingers on and on.  Massive doses of Vitamin C, and this Airborne quackery haven’t helped, but a trip to the doctor isn’t even under consideration, since the virus will undoubtedly just play out in a day or two anyway.  So I’ll do what all men do.  We act tough when strangers are around, and then whine and mope when our wives are here to get all the sympathy they will impart.  If my mom were around, the theatrics would be even grander, but I’ll finagle all the consolation I can get from the Lovely Lady and then tough it out from there.

I wouldn’t want you to be misinformed about the mode in which I carry out my work, either.  I am doing the bare minimum, completing only the most necessary of tasks.  Anyone I work with will attest to my petulant attitude, speaking only when absolutely essential, and emitting the moans and groans of a martyr when asked to do more than I deem crucial with my minimally functioning abilities.  I’m pretty sure my sister, who handles our shipping, was much happier than usual to leave at noon today when her duties were completed.  And, I’m not absolutely certain that I haven’t really offended one of my regular patrons, who merely wanted to talk with me about the functionality of an amplifier, only to be short-circuited by my brusque manner.  I may have to issue an apology in a day or two.  Not yet, though.  I still have a sneaking suspicion that I was within my rights as an impaired individual and the conversation might not go well. 

If you have been one of the injured parties, give me a day or two and then you may lay into me.  I’ll be appropriately contrite, I’m sure.  Until you notice an improvement in my vocal abilities, though, you might want to defer the confrontation.  I’m still relatively steadfast in my conclusion that I am totally within bounds and might further impede the process of making amends.

Come to think of it, it might have showed more insight had I heeded the Lovely Lady’s advice and stayed at home instead of working.  Ah well, at least I didn’t interrupt my normal routine.  Hopefully, everything else can be put right eventually…

“Duirt me leat go raibh me breoite”  Irish phrase meaning, “I told you I was ill”
(Inscription on comedian Spike Milligan’s headstone in England)

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