So, first off, this sucks. Unbelievably sucks. You sit there holding the basket at your desk, trying to be as quiet as possible, praying that no one hears you or smells what's going on. If you are truly blessed, you don't go outside the basket. That is a TRUE blessing. If you are also further blessed, you have people around you who are willing to politely pretend that absolutely nothing is going on, nothing is wrong, and you haven't made a complete and utter spectacle of yourself.
Then you have to call maintenance. I am here to tell you that angels exist, they are really nice and they all work in some dark & dank maintenance department.
Yeah, it IS in fact one of THOSE days. I got to work & started cracking just in time for my nausea meds to decide that I REALLY should have stayed home today. The people in my office are awesome about pretending I don't exist, which in this one narrow instance is a truly marvelous thing. The maintenance guy wishes I didn't, but was kind enough for a man who had to clean up after my mess.
The best you can hope for - honestly - is to ride it out and not make too much of a mess or fuss. It simply is. It happens, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. On those days, I keep the basket close, the rolodex turned to the maintenance line, and just hope I don't gross everyone out (which is a rather futile hope, because I'M grossed out), and hope you don't make an obvious ass of yourself.
That's it. That is my stellar advice. Aim for the basket and hope you don't miss.
Yes, I am all too painfully aware that is inadequate advice. We don't have handy-dandy advice for these times of life. There is no Emily Post for puking at the office. Maybe there should be. Maybe we should have better rules for defining illness & disease.
We don't. So, aim & pray & be nice to the guy who doesn't make enough money to put up with your shit. (Yeah, I'm no Emily Post.)
Oh! And try to feel better when you can.
Then you have to call maintenance. I am here to tell you that angels exist, they are really nice and they all work in some dark & dank maintenance department.
Yeah, it IS in fact one of THOSE days. I got to work & started cracking just in time for my nausea meds to decide that I REALLY should have stayed home today. The people in my office are awesome about pretending I don't exist, which in this one narrow instance is a truly marvelous thing. The maintenance guy wishes I didn't, but was kind enough for a man who had to clean up after my mess.
The best you can hope for - honestly - is to ride it out and not make too much of a mess or fuss. It simply is. It happens, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. On those days, I keep the basket close, the rolodex turned to the maintenance line, and just hope I don't gross everyone out (which is a rather futile hope, because I'M grossed out), and hope you don't make an obvious ass of yourself.
That's it. That is my stellar advice. Aim for the basket and hope you don't miss.
Yes, I am all too painfully aware that is inadequate advice. We don't have handy-dandy advice for these times of life. There is no Emily Post for puking at the office. Maybe there should be. Maybe we should have better rules for defining illness & disease.
We don't. So, aim & pray & be nice to the guy who doesn't make enough money to put up with your shit. (Yeah, I'm no Emily Post.)
Oh! And try to feel better when you can.
