Tuesday, March 17, 2020

This Might Be My Last Blog Post

Ha ha ha I bet you guys thought I had already made my last blog post. Well, SYKE, SUCKAS, I’m back! But I might not be back for long, because while my friends in France and Italy have been placed under a total lockdown, the Bay Area has been asked to shelter in place, the White House has asked Americans to avoid gatherings of more than 10 people, and West Virginia has declared a state of emergency and closed bars, clubs, and casinos, with the governor calling for residents to maintain six feet of distance between one another, my bosses called a meeting today to let us know that we’ll be coming into the office every day until the building has been closed due to contamination. Of course we didn’t use the conference room, because we’re social distancing.

Ask me how salty I am about this.

File:Comparison of Table Salt with Kitchen Salt.png
Answer: About five times this salty.
Image by Lexlex, from Wikimedia Commons

Don’t worry, we have a responsibility to the company not to get sick, so it’ll be fine. They passed out hygiene instructions and little bottles of hand sanitizer, so we have everything we need.

No, but seriously, I’m actually afraid for my life and my families’ lives. I emailed my manager and told her that I’m afraid to come in, but no dice, I can't work from home yet, but I can use PTO. I mean, I'm a proofreader, so that's totally reasonable, given the circumstances. Of course, she invited me to come and talk to her in person about my concerns, but I don’t trust myself not to get myself fired, seeing as how I have fallen back into my old stress-habit of yelling at people (sorry, Jim), so here we are.

I mean, if this blog post goes viral or something – pun intended – I’m definitely getting fired anyway, but at least then I can set up a GoFundMe. Honestly, I always thought I’d go out the red-blooded American way – by getting shot. I never expected this. Then again, none of us did. Well, probably some of us did, but we can’t all be virologists.

Jim thinks I should use my PTO (which I know I am lucky to have, because capitalism could quite frankly be digging its own grave a little faster if you ask me) to take a mental health day, which is legit, because I have OCD (the diagnosable mental disorder, not the trendy colloquialism) and let me tell you, this pandemic thing is not helping my symptoms. I feel slightly better today now that our local hospital is finally going to start testing anyone with symptoms for COVID-19, which means that they actually can detect a positive case in the building, so they actually might close the barn door after the horse has developed a high fever and a dry cough. But I hesitate to use any of my sick days because, well, I’ll probably be getting sick soon, and Jim and I just got back a month ago from what may be among the most perfectly timed vacations in the world, so I’ve already used a week of my time this year. 

At least Jim has been sent to work from home. He must work for a much better company than I do, you ask? No, we work for the same company. He just has a different boss. Fuck my life.

And give to my GoFundMe.