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sickness vacation
Wednesday, January 27 1999
The several days of hard rains and 40-something degree Farenheit temperatures left San Diego cleansed, with a return to the usual: clear skies and bright sun. I was still too sick to return to work, so for me it was just another day to lie in bed and watch the ceiling. Kim and I did go on a little walk to the store to get flu provisions: three different kinds of fruit juice and a half gallon of Breyer's Natural Cherry and Vanilla Icecream, the only food I could imagine putting in my mouth. It wasn't that I was nauseated, it's just that food suddenly had no purpose to me. It all tasted like sawdust except for Breyer's Natural Cherry and Vanilla Icecream. On the way back from the store, we encountered a curious thing in the street: what looked to be the skeleton of a pigeon that had been cooked and eaten.
Having so much time to let my delirium-addled mind roam, I found myself thinking extremely negative thoughts about my workplace. As you recall, the Grand Pooh Bah made clear during the infamous retreat that we were all just dispensable components in the Machine he is building. Now, finally, I understood more clearly what he meant. My boss, who works directly beneath the Grand Pooh Bah, is constantly on the phone recruiting when he isn't overassigning us flunkees far more than we can possibly do. Why is this? So that when we drop dead of overexertion, there will be someone else who can pick up where we left off. The whole January 18th deadline thing was designed to get things from us we'd never normally deliver, and if we sickened and fell in the process (as I and others did), there'd always be another to take our place. It's not any different from the policy of a Nazi concentration camp. In reality, I have to reassure myself, it's impossible for my boss to find anyone who can do what I do for as little as I am doing it.
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