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This is a question Awesome Sickies

A colleague has been off work for two weeks now - apparently he's got something they can't diagnose, (although they know for sure it's not Legionnaires, Malaria, BSE or AIDS, he's supposedly in isolation). We are all sure he's merely sitting in the sun waiting for the World Cup to come on the telly.

What have you invented to get off work?

(, Fri 9 Jun 2006, 7:40)
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This question is now closed.

Just called my boss to tell him I'm leaving early to watch the game..'Have you made the time up as agreed?' .. erm no. Cue silence - ' you really take the piss don't you' .. erm yes. ' Go on then, fuck off and don't tell anyone' .. Hurrah!
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 10:38, Reply)
Last year I got a pretty decent contracting job working for a large mobile supplier's (think oxygen!) technical support line. About 20 of us started on the same day - a great bunch, all bar one. Matt. Our training was an easy 2 weeks of extended lunches in the pub, playing games and messing with technology. Matt called in sick on day 3, from Wednesday to Monday as he was in a 'car accident'. We felt bad - we didn't know him - poor Matt. The following week it was flu, the week after it was dental problems, you get the idea.

About a month into the 'real' job (a real pisstake - boy was I sad when the contract ended!) and Matt just doesn't turn up for about 4 days. Doesn't ring in or anything. When he got back he said he'd needed to clear his head and went to Butlins, he didn't ring in because he didn't have international roaming on his mobile. This was Butlins in Skegness! We worked in Leeds! Lord above. Turns out he'd borrowed £60 off the boss and couldn’t afford to pay it back so he was laying low till payday.

The final straw came when he called in saying he was 'snowed in'. Now, it had been snowing, about half an inch or so, but he lived down the road from work and he sure as hell wasn't snowed in. Boss rings him and he modifies the story to 'I was visiting family in Kent and I got snowed in'. Unlucky. See my boss (who is from Kent) had driven up that very day. It wasn't snowing in Kent.

Three days later (no doubt heavily snowed in) and my boss goes round to his place to catch him out. He wasn't there. Hmm, was he telling the truth? Well..he turned up a few days later and was heard on the phone discussing his new house with his new landlord…he'd said he was snowed in for 3 days in sunny Kent to move house in Leeds. I mean, we had 20 days of paid holiday! Why lie!?

He then went missing for a good two weeks - no-one knew his address, he didn't answer his mobile, he couldn't be sacked though - he left on the first day saying he had 'family problems'. A week into his dissapearance he turned up to a party for the company (with free bar) and broke the party mood by announcing his wife had cancer (we weren't sure he actually had a wife, he kept saying her name wrong). He then dissapeared for another week or so and missed the two formal diciplinaries held in his abcence discussing his 'future with the company'.

Scarily he turned up midweek, sat at a free desk, logged into the systems and started to work. His pass was taken off him and he was asked to leave immidiately. I can still imagine his 'but what have I done wrong!' and 'I'll sue!' cries as he left.

Matt, wherever you are and whatever you are on (jobseekers in both these cases I suspect), you blew the best job you'll never turn up to when you had no need. I don't care in the end though. You were a fucking pervert and if you had stared at my tits one more time I'd have GIVEN your non-existent wife non-existent cancer. You cock.
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 10:20, Reply)
back in the day i was working at the local supermarket, there was this fat ginger kid named matthew who also worked there.

one day he calls up and says he can't come in to work today. the reason? there's a magpie bird attacking him everytime he leaves the house!

we made bird noises at him for the next year or so.
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 7:12, Reply)
the secret
a friend of mine was struggling to cope with the pressures of working two jobs ammounting to forty hours a week plus full-time college education last winter. naturally the unpaid for position of student went neglected most but corners had to be cut on the employment front too.

one day he rings up the video rental shop to speak to the (thoroughly incompetent, mentally-deficiant, 45-year-old chav) manager to try and get the night off:
"Look, Linda, we need to talk. There's something I haven't told you. I know I've been in a bit late a couple of times lately and I've blamed the weather and things but it's something else. I...I'm Santa."

Funny thing though, he was working as father christmas in a shopping centre as his other job. i applied as an elf. i didn't get it though.

first qotw answer. woot.
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 3:52, Reply)
sick note dyslexia
my mate once got a sick note from her dad so she could go see eminem

he spelt out eminem by changing the right letters into capitals

like: jEnnifer May not be INto school on tuEsday because she Must attend x

he even put the second e the wrong way round

wonder if the teacher realized
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 1:16, Reply)
cant come in, i'm sick
me: cant come in, i'm sick
boss: oh dear, how sick are you
me: i'm in bed with my sister

what a lame way to stumble into this place

also had a really bad bout of migranes

only got them when i wanked though

still took the time off and got many a headache, come on, what the fuck else do you do when you pull a sickie

the pills i took were a treat too, just got you very giggly and useless, always made school more fun,
"erm i've got a headache, can i have one of these"
*cue a gigling little cunt at the back of the classroom*

length, girth, i really dont care, as for this being lame, erm, thats just unlucky
(, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 0:28, Reply)
Worryingly not so made up
I once had to call in to work in the morning after waking up in a lot of pain in my right lower extremity (my leg not some scary testicle incident)

The reason "I stabbed myself in the leg and it really hurts now."

Yep the night previous I had managed to plunge a brand new stanley knife an inch or so into my leg just above the knee pointy end first after ignoring the "cut away from yourself" rule. Twunt. I spent three hours in A&E having a not so comical conversation going between being asked who stabbed me (I do live in Paisley ned/chav central) and me admitting my own stupid mistake.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 23:05, Reply)
Fancied a lie in...
so I rang up work and said that I was on the way to work and had a flat tyre and as I didn't know how to change I would have to wait for the RAC to come and fix it who said they'll be a couple of hours, so conversation continues like this...

Boss: Well I know how to do it if you aren't that far then I can come and do it for you

Me (panicing): Um you know what maybe I'll try it myself...it can't be that hard

Boss: No no its fine, tell me where you are and I'll come out to you

Me: I think the lines breaking up..

Boss: Er no it isn't...

Me: Hangs up

Fucking helpful boss, whatever happened to the good old days when my boss probably wouldnt have even shown concern if I told him I'd just been hit by a truck?!
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 22:13, Reply)
Once worked with a guy who's alcohol intake was the stuff of pure legend (Hi Al!), he'd be out on the p*ss nearly every night of the week and consequently had a rather interesting habit of phoning the office after-hours and leaving very drunken voicemails, then phoning in at about 8:50 claiming to be ill.

Now most of us tried to cover for him (to be fair, we were all on the skive aswell, and we hated our boss) and it was my job to check the voicemail system in the morning and delete the evidence - until I took a few days off to visit the homeland...

..on my return, I found my collegues waiting to tell me the tale of a certain Tuesday morning, when the usual drunken voicemail wasn't deleted and the boss picked it up. Upon phoning poor Alex and demanding that he got to the office with 30 minutes, or be minus a job - Alex eventually turned up, still p*ssed out of his tree from the 12 hour Guinness session of the previous night - only to projectile vomit over our boss, his desk, laptop, brand new mobile phone - and this was no normal sick, it was the result of what we christened 'guinnessitus' - black, creamy and with a smell only satan could muster...

From then on Guinness was a banned substance at any works drinkup, and Alex managed to keep his job by claiming he had an reaction with some antibiotics he was taking at the time... still used to come in stinking of booze from time to time though...
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 21:41, Reply)
Best Excuse
My partner's friend (yeah, yeah, I know...) had to call in after a nasty case of the runs. So this was actually a *real* sick day. Unfortunately, it appeared he had an arsehole for a manager, as well as his main problem. After talking to this manager for 5 minutes, explaining that he wasn't dying, but going to the loo constantly at work was an uncomfortable experience, the anal-intensive manager told him to do better than that.

In a shout that could apparently be heard on phones on the other side of the room, he screamed "Okay, you cunt, I'm pissing out of my arsehole."

He got the day off. Managers, beware. Don't ask for more details. You don't want to know.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 21:34, Reply)
By any chance could it be about sickies?
i once pulled a sickie by saying i was really tired and had a cold amazingly enough ten minutes in my comfy warm bed seemed to cure this mysterious ailment (illness for u retards)plus 1 free day off school. :)

also 1 time at about 2 minutes before i usually set off for school im about to have breakfests but wait there is a strange feeling in my stomach now my brain figured i was hungry so i said to my mother;
"mum my stomach hurts" she replied
"oh you poor dear you cant go to school like this you must stay off"

result 1 day off school for been hungry ;)
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 20:33, Reply)
At cub camp when I was nine or so...
I said that I was allergic to washing up liquid.

Worked a treat.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 20:15, Reply)
A guy I work with
decided the waves were a bit good and went surfing instead of working, after phoning in sick.

That evening, he appeared on the evening news being interveiwed about his opinion on something-or-other on the beach.

Next day...'er...ah fuckit, I threw a sicky and went surfing.'

Got away with it.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 19:37, Reply)
Weak but true
My good friend Dirty Horse once had a week off from his job as a phone monkey in Leeds because he had sore lips. Thats it. Mildly chapped lips. And he phoned up and told them he wouldn't be coming in because of it. Genius.

And then during the summer, got up, dressed, drove through the appalling rush hour traffic to get to work just to decide he couldn't be arse and phoned up to say he was ill from the phone box directly outside his work.

His boss who took the call was watching him...

"...so I can't come in because I’m really ill..."

"...but isn't that you across the road on the payphone?..."

"...No, No, it's just someone who looks a bit like me..."

...and leaves the phone swinging as he scarpers up the street.

Never got sacked for it either.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 19:31, Reply)
I'm fairly uninventive in this particular field. My only decent sickie was getting out of PE for my last year of secondary school, stating a back injury.

A back injury that I in fact acquired playing football when I was about 11. In goal. Muddy. Slipped over.

Plastic cone up the coccyx. Nasty.

That and I cunted my ankle up playing hockey in bloody football boots. NOT a good idea.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 19:22, Reply)
Convenient jobs
I used to use my parents to get a day off from whatever hell-minium-wage slave job I was doing. I'd say I couldn't come in because my mum was in hospital.

She was. She's a nurse.

Or I'd say my dad had been taken to prison.

Yup, he's a prison officer.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 18:36, Reply)
Last Time
I did something worse mentioning back in year 9. It was the week before SATS, and I was going to fail. Hard. I had stayed in my full fledged 'pay no attention' mode for the better part of the year, and at Latymer 'Do well or else' school, this was bad.

I was trying desperatly to think my way out my situation as I left, that miserable tuesday. Laiden down with my heavy school bag and Trumpet Case, I considered my options. Now amount of emergency revision could possibly help me now. As the rain pourewd down, I realised I was lost. My parents would be furious, and my school teachers would feel betrayed.

At this point, fully in desperation, I looked left, and saw a bus, slightly closer than I was accustomed to. With untold speed, I swung full round, and attempted to fend of the iron beast with my right hand.

I flew back several metres before coming back to earth. After what seemed like an age, I lifted my sodden frame and scarred possesions out of the road, hand burning as if I'd, well, just taken on a bus.

A man leapt from the stationary bus, and pulled me out of the road, and I shuddered to the pavement. He asked me questions around the general theme of "Are you all right?!" "Can you feel your arm?!" and "Dear God, are you OK?!". As the ringing in my ears continued, I mumbled feebly back a mixture of apologetic, painfilled and embarresed answers, all of which revolved around the theme of being "ok...."

After about 10 seconds, I was able to reclaim what little sense had been knocked out of me, and I was in a more rational state of mind. I assured the Samaritan that I was ok, and could take care of the situation, though my arm still refused to move without shooting pain through my whole body. I juddered towards the bus, and attempted to get my battered frame on board, only to be refused by the very bus driver who has hit me.

Still slightly dazed, I limped down the road, getting more and more soaked. By the end of the 20 miniute walk, I was convinced that though the pain was bad, I could handle it, to the extent that I would deal with it myself. I got onto my next bus, and spent the whole journey sitting on my hand so as to numb it, and deciding that I would not tell my parents. It's hardly a conversation piece, after all. ("Hey! I got hit by a Bus!") I got off the bus and made it home, where I set about my meager amounts of homework, made more challenging by my inability to hold a pen, without being reduced to tears. When enquired about my slow progress, I merly stated that I was 'finding it hard', and I was told to get on with it.

The next day, I was given a ride to school, sitting on my hand whenever I could. I got into school, and emmidaitly told my form teacher that I was unable to hold a pen, being that I had been hit by a bus.

I repeated this to my elderly, ill-tempered English Teacher who did not believe my story. To her, it was an elabourte rouse to get out of the English Mock she had planned for the day. After all, who gets hit by a bus?

About 15 miniutes into the mock, a fellow student went up to the Teacher and got me excused for the reason that I had broken down into tears for even trying to hold a pen. Bitterly, becasuse I was making a scene, I was sent to the medical room.

Tearfully, I explained my position to the nurse, who immidiatly called my Mother, and I was wisked off to the emergeny room. Half an hour after I arrived, I was poked repeatedly in my overly tender hand and in the lack of X-Rays, a full arm cast was administeared.

The next day, slightly more free from pain, having no longer the ability to move my arm, I walked into my English room, and stated in a voice for all to hear "I got hit by a bus, and now my arms in a cast!". My teacher looked like she'd died.

I was given the entire test week off school, and a good two after that. I moved down from cast to splint, for a further week. (At this point, it was still still a mystery what damage I had actually caused.) Finally recieving X-Rays by the worst nurse I have ever had the misfortune to meet ("Hold you hand like this." "I can't. It hurts." "Here." *Twist*) and when examined, no bones where visibly broken. A doctor stared at them and found nothing. A specalist poked my wrist to yowls of pain, and decreed that I had broken my 'Skafoid', a small bone in my wrist, between other bones. I was placed back in a cast, and I remained so for a further 2 weeks.

During this time, I was sent back to school and attempted to type with the help of a tiny laptop (The kind those irrating Yuppies use) to do work, but never actually did any. The work that I did do however, some how improved. Something to do with the fact that I was now paying attention in class.

Or so I thought. I was talked about behind closed doors, and sent away for tests in London. I was diagnosed with Mild Dyslexia and Moderate Dyspraxia, which means not only can I request a computer whenever I want, I am given a laptop in all of my exams, and extra time.

Incase your wondering, I was instantly attributed level 7's for my Sats, which I certainly would not have got.

It was the best thing I ever did.

They say size doesn't matter, but from my surveys, "It's a nice suprise."
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 18:33, Reply)
The easiet way...
To pull convincing sickies is, in the interview of a job or at the "Well done you're in" meeting, state that you have a hereditary illness.

I have a blood condition I live with, nothing serious as long as I look after myself decently, eat decent food and don't let myself go totally.

It's called "Familial Hyper-Lipadopia". When telling employers this you just say you may not feel too good and needs a day here or there.

Very few places ask for proof and never question it if you're careful.

Moderation, my life in a word.

However I did phone my bosses answer machine whilst very pissed to leave a sick message while the 2 ladies I was chatting with were singing Burt Bacharach’s "I love you baby" loudly and badly in the background... I got a caution for that one... Gotta love the games industry :)

Length, you love it you minx...
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 17:12, Reply)
No shoes
I once phoned in sick with the excuse that one of my feet had swelled up and I couldn't fit into my shoes*

It was 100% fact, but I did get some very funny looks when I hobbled in 2 days later.

*A little known inflammation of the skin called cellulitis
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 16:42, Reply)
Early starter
I skived two and a half months of fourth form double geography on a Thursday afternoon. No style, no panache. Just didn't bother. When the register ladies caught up and I got the obligatory appointment with the Head and my Mum I told them I had been going to the clap clinic. That counts as sick, right?

I'm over 30 now and my mum still thinks it's true.

1st time poster, long time reader.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 16:30, Reply)
We'll be singing....
I guy I used to work with went out on the lash on a work night with an old friend from the army he hadn't seen in ages. Feeling the worse for wear in the morning and remembering that he hadn't told the boss about his plans the day before, he tried to pull a sickie. Unbeknownst to him he had knocked on the bosses door at 3am whilst twatted and serenaded him with army songs (he lived in the same apartment complex). The boss reminded him of this and he arrived at work 20 minutes later to the cheers of staff and managers alike.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 16:17, Reply)
How not to do it
Many years and beers and cheers ago a legendary drinker phoned into my work several hours into his shift to say he could not come in that day because he had flu.

They sacked him.

They didn't sack him for the phone call. They sacked him because he had in fact already turned up for the shift completely and utterly stocious. As he could not talk, let alone work, he had been sent home, where he fell into a drunken slumber until he woke up a few hours later and remembered he should be at work. Then he reached for the phone...

(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 15:53, Reply)
Oh yes, and...
'Oh, you know how I didn't want to go to photography this morning?'
'Well, I managed to get out of it.'
'I got hit by a car.'

All true.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 15:44, Reply)
That story could have been so much better if instead of ending it with:

"Not to mention spending all of saturday night hanging out with a hen party! Great Fun!"

You'd rounded off with:

"Not to mention spending all of saturday night hanging out the back of a hen party! Great Fun!"

Just a thought- bravo nonetheless- fuck work!
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 15:41, Reply)
Never fails
I'm really bad at taking sickies, only about 7 days off in 8 years and all genuine...but...if I fancy an unscheduled day off, I used to use the infallible 'my daughter's not well and I have to look after her'. Brilliant because you don't have to fake any illness yourself. From the previous posts, it doesn't look as if B3tans have children...why would that be then??

Trouble is, daughter is now a student - still had to take two days off to sort her out when we found out she'd not been to any English lectures all term and might be kicked out!

When the hell do you lot grow up???
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 14:36, Reply)
My head fell off once, apparently.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 14:22, Reply)
Pulled a sickie a few months back but it was kind of genuine. I broke my finger.

So I called in work on Monday morning and left a message that I'd broken my finger and would be in when it was all strapped up. Wandered in on the Tuesday morning to be pulled by the boss.

"OK Legless - How did you mange to break your finger?" asked the boss

"I knackered it saving a little girl from a burning building" I said.

"Really?" says the boss looking surprised and impressed..

"Nah - I broke it trying to stab my little finger through three beermats when I was pissed on Sunday night....."

(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 14:20, Reply)
Not me... never me...
2 tales...

First is a colleague that I worked with in a UK Health Insurance company. Although we normally worked the usual 9-5, 5 day week, this guy every week for several months worked Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday (the weekend was necessary because he had to catch up with the work he had missed out on during the first part of the week). The following Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were sickies because he felt that he had come back to work too early and hadn't recovered fully. Needless to say the following Thursday and Friday he was in... oh and had to catch up again over the weekend. He was paid time and a half for weekends as well.
We ended up signing a Get Well Soon card and sending him a photocopy of it every week until he "recovered".

Second... the fat lazy ginger twat from hell...
By now I had moved into Banking and TFLGTFH had been transferred into my section whilst I was on Annual Leave... Not long after I returned, I noticed that there were regular sickies... girlies' stuff, stress issues, mum's not well, ME, etc etc etc.. In fact I think she even might have tried leprosy... one time during a major illness (couple of weeks) a girl that worked for me went out to a nightclub and Lo! there she was TFLGTFH bopping it up like there was no tomorrow... The conversation went...
Girl : "I thought that you were sick"
TFLGTFH : "I am, but just because I am sick doesn't mean I can't go out and enjoy myself".

I took great delight in dispensing with her services shortly after despite her assertion that her mum would have my job.

Fuck you, TFLGTFH... you know who you are!!!
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 14:17, Reply)
Extreme excuse
My friend was teaching in Japan and really hated the job. As time went on, her reasons for calling in sick got more and more bizarre. She started with the usual excuses until eventually she just called up one day and said that her legs had fallen off. She was sacked not long after but I've always respected that excuse and endeavour to use it myself in the future.
(, Wed 14 Jun 2006, 13:53, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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