Roger Rabbits with Jim Bunny

 We called him ‘Mal’…short for ‘Malingerer’ or ‘Malady’ or ‘Mal-adjusted’. ‘Mal’ because he was always throwing ‘sickies’. He wore these labels shamelessly.

‘Sickies’ were the precursor to something called ‘duvet days’. One day Human Resources were looking for something to complicate, as they do if they’re not at a conference. They seized on the ‘sickie’ – a proven and perfectly adequate concept of skiving – and gave it a new funky name and respectability.

‘Duvet Day’ – read ‘sickie’, read ‘mental health day’. Here it helps to learn to love Mal. He was the patron saint of sickies, duvet days and such skulduggery.

Fridays, or Mondays, or both, were Mal’s sick days of preference.

He would often be struck down with a spontaneous cold, flu, stomach upset, headache, or migraine; anything that would prevent him working, on either one, or perhaps both of those days.

Then he’d saunter back in to work Tuesday having made a miraculous, God-ordained recovery, before relapsing Thursday and another no-show Friday.

An artform

Mal was delightfully bare-faced. And we loved him for it. A tall, talented, picture of good health who’d created an artform of falsifying and exaggerating symptoms of physical or mental illness to get paid time off work. Did it with impunity.

Did it with style. He was a wonderful distraction from the newsroom’s daily diet of car crashes, death knocks and council agendas.

A colleague jokingly inquired of Mal’s health one Tuesday morning and he delivered a detailed account of night sweats, projectile vomiting, blocked colon and immovable mucus deposits.

It was hugely funny and disgusting in equal amounts. Mr Clever Dick colleague never inquired of Mal’s health again.

One day a surly suit from Human Resources presented at Mal’s desk – dripping with attitude and wielding a sharpened pencil and clipboard.

It was serious.

Did Mal know his recent absences were in violation of company policy?

Did Mal want to see a written record of his absences and did Mal agree with “actions moving forward” like a doctor’s note for all absences.

No-one, including HR, got to know where Mal stood on these issues because he spiralled into a terminal sneezing, coughing and choking fit. And before I could Google ‘Heimlich Manoeuvre’ through showers of Mal’s spittle, Mal had excused himself and retired home to his sickbed. He was a great act.

Some of us lived from pay cheque-to-pay cheque – Mal lived from sick leave entitlement-to-sick leave entitlement.

He could only afford for his flushes and fevers, dyspepsia and diarrhoea to manifest once those entitlements had landed safely in his account each month.

Now – we turn, albeit slightly, from Mal to ‘Duvet Day’.   

Duvet days

Over the years I’ve accumulated stacks of sick leave. So now I’m seriously thinking of throwing a few ‘Mals’. They can try docking my pay but you can’t take something away from nothing.

‘Duvet days’ require no prior notice – you just don’t go to work, for whatever reason. Glorious!

It’s a chance for companies to give back, provide a positive, productive workplace ethic. What a noble gesture! And it’s a chance for employees, that’s me, to rest and recover when I need it most.

So, got a sniffle, ingrown toenail? Then have a ‘Duvet Day’. Sometimes, all we need to recharge is quality ‘me time’ doing nothing.

Relaxing and lazing guilt-free is key.

I do it well, and long before it became fashionable. Eradicate pressure and stress whenever it threatens. Hide the phone. Do nothing about anything.

Meditate and light some scented candles. Suddenly ‘Duvet Day’ is sounding slightly weird.

Ditch the skinny jeans, pencil skirts and suits for a onesie, over-sized T or cashmere pyjamas; “clothing you will never want to get out of”.

Or, never want to get into.

Get in some snacks – falafel bites, dried fruit, nuts and fresh fruit.

Surely euphemisms for a six-pack of IPA, two steak and cheese pies and sausage rolls.

Curl up in front of TV with a drama, film or new series on Netflix.

That’s a euphemism for the Sky
Sport channels.

Peak health

They suggest comfort food – so flick through the flyers from the local takeaway joints. Warm drinks are, it seems, the ultimate ‘Duvet Day’ comfort, a nice hot chocolate, tea or coffee. But if you really want ‘nice’ crack into your stash of single malts. Now that’s nice. Nap often, wake when you like. The company’s paying.

‘Duvet Day’ is a pampering day – manicures, pedicures, facials. Treat, indulge. Phone a friend, plan a trip, snuggle up; talk. It’s getting weird again.

So Boss, block me in my allocation of ‘Duvet Days’. And while I’m squandering company time, I will salute Mal. I bet he’s still in peak health after years of sick days.