Today I bunked work. It wasn't about the fact that I had very little sleep over the weekend and particularly the previous night thanks to a 20 hour visit by Q, or the fact that some of the most fantastic women from my batch in College were in town, or the fact that the workoholic law firm which my roommate works for had declared a holiday despite the fact that Gudi Padwa was yesterday. Oh no. Nothing of that sort, nothing that meaningful a reason.
I was stretching out on my makeshift bed in the living room, all set for a day in Office, conquering the world etc etc. having had fulfilling weekend of chilling, alcohol, partying with friends, alcohol, junk food, some more alcohol and of course, the boy. My phone rang and I reached for it lazily. It was Pooh.
Pooh works in my Office, and makes everything seem more difficult than it really is. Pooh used to live at Churchgate and would get to office after everyone else managed their hour long commutes, Pooh would cry after getting adjournments from the Court, Pooh would forget procedural niceties and get our cases dismissed for default, then Pooh got married and angsted so much that I still get the heebie jeebies when someone says the "M" word, and now, now, Pooh has moved to Thane.
Pooh has developed a strange strain of the flu since December, about the time she moved to Thane, which kicks in everytime she has a particularly long day. By a "long day" I mean her coming to Office from Thane and maybe attending a Court or two in between. She develops fever, a bad throat, and will croak pleas to us who need to then run around and handle her matters as well as our own. For the past 2 weeks, the flu has had her completely dead and she hasn't been coming in to work.
You, of course, think I'm a bitch for dissing her like this. You think I'm being a meanie. And you may also be wondering what the fuck this has to do with my bunking work today. Well.
Today Pooh called me, and told me in her oh-my-God-I-am-going-to-die voice that there was a matter she was handling on today at Girgaum, and she was going to come (really, but I'll come by 12), so was it possible for me to pick up the papers from Office and come to the Court by 11 to hold the matter till then?
Taking a cue from A, who had sarcastically suggested a way to handle this situation, I choked my throat and spoke in a oh-my-God-Pooh-these-could-be-my-last-words voice:
"Pooh man, I've been puking all morning. I don't think I'll be coming to Office man."
Don't be fooled. I didn't call in 'sick' I called in 'spite'.
And for all of you who think I'm being mean, not only has Boss told her to take the next 3 weeks off, and not only had he told her not to come during the monsoon season, and not only is she allowed to leave office to catch the 7:05 Thane Fast every day, but also, every month, my Boss gives us both a paycheque - of the same amount.
"Poor thing." said Boss, in a rare display of sensitivity. "It's the commuting that makes her sick. She should actually move closer to here."
I waited a minute actually expecting him to trump up an empty flat in Colaba for her to move into. Then I let it out.
"All of us Commute, and I think we're doing just fine."
He smiled at me.
Oh, how I hate that line. But for now, I am going to have brunch at the Juhu Mocha. :)