I haven't worked in about a week because all those late-night, 8-hour shifts have taken a toll on my pencily body. I have an ingrown toenail - big toe, right side - which makes it very painful to walk, difficult to stock and almost impossible to mop.
The best part about having an ingrown toenail is that no one wants to know any details about it. People think that it is gross. They are right. It is.
The assortment of Tim Hortons' managers that have called me (every day) to work renege on their request after I tell them about my ingrown toenail. My ingrown toenail is the equivalent of a lady getting out of work due to "feminine issues."
Today, one of the managers called me up: "Um, Doctor Donut, I heard that you were sick, or hurt, or something, but I was hoping that you could come in and cover a shift tonight. Can you do that for me?"
"Actually, what I have is an ingrown toenail. I'm looking at it right now and ..."
"Whoa, whoa," interrupted the manager. "We will find someone else to come in tonight. Take care of yourself and don't worry about."
Click.
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2 comments:
I resent the comparison between a perfectly natural 'feminine issue' to your completely unnatural, freakish foot problem. The two are definitely not analogous.
I wasn't sure if the ladies were going to have a problem with that analogy. Sorry about that, but I'm swimming in the shallow water of comments - a kiddie pool of comments, if you will - so I thought I should add some controversial analogies to boost the comments. It worked too.
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