Production on fake vomit is pretty low this week around Amalgamated Humor, Inc. We're making up for it, though, by dramatically stepping up production of actual vomit.
On Monday it was announced that it was time for mandatory employee flu shots. I asked Mr. Newbrunswick what the point was of doing this since the cold and flu season is at least past its peak, if not completely over. He explained that Amalgamated Humor Co-President Mr. White always likes to wait until this time of year because the shots are a lot less expensive. "It's like Christmas shopping after Christmas," he explained.
Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought this was crazy. Gary tells me that several other brave employees complained about this to Mr. White too. Of course, he fired them all, but he also said to make up for such late shots he would make sure we got extra large doses.
So as a result, most of the company is very sick right now.
I'm sure the Tuesday cafeteria lunch of creamed corn didn't help, as I'm told it generally makes a few people sick whenever it's served anyway, but this time it really kick-started some trouble. A couple people got one of those violent surprise tap you on the shoulder kind of sudden vomit explosions right there onto their cafeteria trays, which at least slowed down most of the rest of the company from eating much more.
I'm not sure how much that helped, though, since over the course of the rest of the day you could start to hear the sounds of people reversing the normal flow of food through their bodies. By 5:00 the smell of puke seemed to permeate every corner of the building.
Zonar, of course, found this hilarious. He didn't get the shot and would be immune to puking anyway since his alien 100% efficient biological system means he only eats atoms and produces no waste. Normally the green monster keeps to his office since he hates us all very much, but on Tuesday he was everywhere, racing around from room to room hoping to catch people just as the urge to hurl seized them. I'm not sure which was more horrible: the constant puking sounds or his maniacal laughter. For this week, he's stopped calling us "poop machines" as usual and has replaced it with "puke production units." Such a class act, that guy.
Wednesday half the company called in sick, Thursday it was three quarters.
Today, hardly anyone is here. Mr. White and the other president, Mr. Brockie, are both in. Apparently neither one of them actually took the "mandatory" flu shot. Gordy Schwartz the head of the mailroom is here as well because, as Mr. White said, "nothing will kill that old bastard." Mr. Newbrunswick is out sick, which surprised me since I thought that he had also avoided the flu shot. Maybe it was the bourbon he started in on at 3:00 yesterday before he had even left for the day.
Honestly I'm not feeling in tip-top shape myself here. I probably should've called in sick too, but I haven't been here long enough yet to get paid sick leave and I'm also afraid to call in so soon into my employment here. Oh man, my stomach. Oh no. Nope. Here it comes. Why am I still typing? I should be running to the bathroom! Here goes...
Oh man.
And here's Zonar. Yes, yes. It's hilarious.