Calling In Sick
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. “Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it.”
You know where the button is.” I protested through the shower (pitter- patter). “Reset it yourself!”
“I am scared!” She pleaded. “What if it starts going and sucks me in?” (Pause) “C’mon, it’ll only take a second.”
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence.
I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasn’t a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink.
At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a “fight or flight” syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the “flight” option.
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter.
At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
If they had only known.
Two doctors are in the hallway complaining about nurse Nancy.
”She’s out of control!” the first doctor says. ”She does everything backwards. Just last week I told her to give a man two milligrams of morphine every ten hours, she gave him 10 milligrams every two hours, he alomost died!”
”That’s nothing,” said the second doctor, ”earlier this week I told her to give a man an enema every 24 hours, she tried to give him 24 enemas in one hour!”
All of a sudden they heard a blood curldling scream from down the hallway.
”OH MY GOD! I just realized that I told nurse Nancy to prick Mr. Smiths boil!”’
A little old lady answered a knock on the door one day, only to be confronted by a well-dressed young man carrying a vacuum cleaner. ‘Good morning,’ said the young man. “If I could take a couple of minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in high-powered vacuum cleaners.”
“Go away!” said the old lady. “I’m broke and haven’t got any money!” And she proceeded to close the door.
Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed It wide open. “Don’t be too hasty!” he said. “Not until you have at least seen my demonstration.” And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse manure onto her hallway carpet.
“If this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse manure from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.”
The old lady stepped back and said, “Well let me get you a fork, ’cause they cut off my electricity this morning.”
You Might Be an Engineer if…
your favorite James Bond character is “Q”.
you see a good design and still have to change it.
you still own a slide rule and you know how to use it.
your family haven’t the foggiest idea what you do at work.
in college you thought Spring Break was metal fatigue failure.
you have modified your can-opener to be microprocessor driven.
you are better with a Karnaugh map than you are with a street map.
you think the real heroes of “Apollo 13” were the mission controllers.
you take a cruise so you can go on a personal tour of the engine room.
you think “cuddling” is simply an unproductive application of heat exchange.
you have owned a calculator with no equal key and know what RPN stands for.
you make four sets of drawings (with seven revisions) before making a bird bath.
you have trouble writing anything unless the paper has horizontal and vertical lines.
your ideal evening consists of fast-forwarding through the latest sci-fi movie looking for technical inaccuracies.
you think the value of a book is directly proportionate to the amount of tables, charts and graphs it contains.
Two men working in a facory were talking. “I know how to get some time off,” said one.
“How are you going to do that?”
“Watch,” he said, and climbed up on a rafter. The foreman asked what he was doing up there, and the man replied.”I’m a lightbulb.”
“I think you need some time off,” the foreman said said, and the first man walked out of the factory. After a moment, the second man followed him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the foreman shouted.
“I can’t work in the dark,” he said.