Leave Me Alone, I'm Sick

So I'm running a fever of, by my estimation, 128 degrees. I've been bouncing between flop sweat and shivering for the entire day. My sinuses feel like their packed with Pop Rocks and Alka Seltzer. My nose is like Hilary Clinton; it won't stop running, even though it's been told repeatedly that enough is enough. My cough sounds like a 75 year old woman who smoked 18 packs a minute for 320 years. I'm hallucinating, or maybe there really are small parakeets dive bombing the teller line.

But I can't go home, because I am closing. This isn't the first time, either. As a teller, I once went through an entire day having to vomit every 45 minutes, even though I had nothing in my stomach. I had such a high fever that I was huddled over the drive up drawer with the heater on for warmth. I had to lay in the back on the floor every few minutes to keep from falling down. But I stayed, because I was closing, and God Forbid anyone else step up to the plate and take a bullet.

Everyone wants you to feel better, everyone wants you to be well, exccept no one else will step up and take over for you if it means they have to stay past 5:01.

Being a team player is sometimes exceedingly painful. I have a five day weekend starting Wednesday. Hopefully tomorrow will find me not as an extra in The Andromeda Strain.