So now I’m scared that I’ve already had my crescendo moment, but I’m still sitting in the theatre waiting for the punch line. I don’t know what’s worse: that there is no punch line, or that the punch line was as impressive as a flat fart.

I’m trying to work this out, you see, so this argument is not meant to be cut and dry. These words are meant not to exact change, but to attract it. If you think about it enough, it will happen – or so I’m led to believe. And I believe that if we dissect every coming-of-age movie, we’re likely to find that it contains lessons far more important that the plot itself. Typically, the protagonists’ light bulb moment occurs when these half-heeded lessons become the only solution to a seemingly impossible dilemma.

Cue the music.

I’ve learned a few lessons of my own since I’ve been here. Some, like looking both ways while crossing a street, have more to do with survival than happiness. If I’ve understood what I’ve read correctly, a happy man (or woman, natch) is one who can find contentedness in the duality of life; to see the beauty in the chaos and the order, and also to accept that which happens and relinquish ownership and control. I’m not making an argument for submissiveness, mind you. Let’s put it in perspective: When caught in a traffic jam, most people would end up losing their temper. This is actually a reaction to the feeling of helplessness one feels when caught in traffic. You’re going to be late for your appointment, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Crane your neck all you want, honk the horn till the cows come home, but nothing you can do will make you go any faster. You will arrive when you are meant to arrive.

And that acceptance is what I’m talking about; probably the single hardest and most valuable lesson I’ve learned so far. I’ve been able to make a short list of the others that have improved my quality of life, and in the interest of sharing, here they are:

Don’t think of traffic jams as delays – I’ve trained myself to enjoy them like I do a morning shower. It’s a chance for me to exercise my brain; thinking about the tricks and treats puttering around the twisted corridors of my mind.

Look up at the sky more often. There are days when the weather is just right; the golden glow of the afternoon sun bastes this fair city of ours in a honey-glazed sweetness.  It’s one of the few times I feel like I’m living a dream.

To be single is to be sad, dumb and proud. To accept this is to be wise. Kinda like the guy who realizes his time on earth is finite. Then it hits: do you spend your life addicted to a single person; or do you spend your life addicted to the singular pursuit of Booty?

Smile more often. If you smile enough, eventually you’ll brainwash yourself into thinking everything is alright.

Quit smoking cigarettes, before you’re forced to but not before you’re sick of smoking. A cigarette is sex on a stick; a convenient pickup schtick; a conversation piece when all else fails. It’s no secret some of my best friends are smokers. We think alike.

Read more often, it’s make you a better conversationalist. But only if you master the art of the conversation – otherwise you’ll end up sounding like a know-it-all. No one likes a know-it-all.

Step out of your comfort zone. Do the things you imagine yourself doing in your head, like Karaoke, dancing in public and standing upto your boss. Each require courage to do, and no matter how ridiculous you may look when doing them, these are things that make you fearless.

For the better part of a decade, the people charged with monitoring food safety have issued warnings for everything from beef to tomatoes. It’s gotten so bad and so frequent, that everytime I open my fridge or swim through the aisles at my grocery store, all I see are instruments of death. Like Yossarian in Catch-22, I’m already acutely aware of the many dangers lurking around the corner, just waiting for a slip up or wrong move on my part to end my life. But now, it’s gotten out of hand. Even the food we eat is no longer 100% safe. Allow me to elaborate:

Where’s the Beef?

Known as new variant Crutzfeld-Jacob Disease (vCJD)in Humans, or Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy aka Mad Cow’s disease in cows, this is a whopper (no pun intended) of a health scare. It’s not bacterial. It’s not Viral. It’s not even a lowly fungal infection. It is a protein. A misfolded protein called a “Prion”. Prion diseases are notable for the fact that they are notoriously difficult to prevent. You can’t just cook a steak well done and feel safe – these proteins are highly resistant to denaturation by heat or other agents. A well done steak is cooked to an internal temperature of about seventy five degrees Celsius; but to denature a prion, the temperature has to reach almost double that.

After ingesting beef from an infected cow, these proteins make their way to your brain, where they come in contact with the normally folded proteins already present in humans. Then the fun begins. The normal proteins start misfolding, one by one, setting off an exponential cascade, leaving the brain pockmarked with holes, giving it an overall “spongy” appearance.

There is no cure. It is fatal. The first symptoms are a rapid descent into dementia, memory loss, personality changes and hallucinations. This is accompanied with speech impairment, jerky movements, balance and coordination dysfunction, leading to changes in posture and walking gait. Oh, and seizures. All this fun ends after about 2-3 months; after which your spongy brain will be soaking up the dirt from a hole six feet under.

While the vegetarian readers will undoubtedly rejoice, I’m afraid I have to burst their bubble. First, vCJD is rare. Even with the mad cow outbreak, it’s still rare. Quite rare, in fact – as in “less than one in a million” rare.

Second, vegetarians have a lot more to worry about, because salads are the new Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Killer Tomatoes, Lethal Lettuce and Salmonella Spinach Salad.

In the summer of 2008, the Food and Drug Association in the United states launched a major investigation in to a nationwide outbreak of salmonella food poisoning. School districts took salads off the menu, Taco bell and McDonalds took tomatoes off their tacos and burgers. A Center for Disease Control (CDC) estimate topped over 52,000 cases across 42 States; including reported and unreported cases.

Salmonella food poisoning may not be a stranger to some of you; it certainly isn’t to me. The ride starts with Abdominal cramps, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea within 12 hours of eating the tainted food. Usually, these symptoms last for about a week, and if treated properly, will resolve without need for hospitalization. It’s rarely fatal, only if you’ve been treated by a monkey, or if you have a severely lowered immunity.

But there’s a kicker. Salmonella is not the only bacterial outbreak in recent years. It’s distant cousin, E. Coli has also been implicated, as recently as 2006 in outbreaks of food poisoning involving tainted spinach and then again in 2007, resulting in the second largest recall of Beef in US history.

This strain of E. Coli, called the Enterohemorrhagic or O157:H7, has a special love for your bowels. Bloody Diarrhea is a typical hallmark of infection with this bug, and has been known to lead upto Kidney failure, especially in young children and old people.

Fortunately, treatment of these infections is quite easy, and has been established for quite some time. Hydration, Antibiotics and Rest usually help your immune system deal with it inside of two weeks, tops. What’s even better is that prevention of these Foodborne bacterial illnesses can be achieved by following simple food handling rules and cooking food properly and hygienically.

And just so you are aware, the scares of Avian influenza and Swine Influenza have nothing to do with ingesting the flesh of the infected animals – infection only happens if you’ve come into contact with an infected animal or with a person who’s already infected. So unless you live on a pig farm, or get your rocks off chocking your chickens, chances are you’re probably safe. At least we’ll still have Chicken and Ham on the menu…

Wesam has been in the deserts of Sinai searching for the elusive desert truffle for the past month. He cannot be found. We don’t call him, he calls us.

There is something Rotten in the workplace. Chances are it has less to do with the 3 day old Egg Salad in the fridge, and more to do with the passive aggressive attitude your office seems to emit. Ask yourself the following Questions:

1. Do you hate going to work in the morning? Symptoms include “dragging” yourself out of bed, and Morning Road Rage.
2. Do you have an office Nemesis?
3. Do you feel that twenty one days of paid vacation annually are not enough?
4. Do you frequently have to work weekends/extra hours?
5. Does your work bore you?

If you’ve only answered yes to the first and third questions; then it’s possible you’re a lazy slacker who does not even deserve a Job. If, however, you answered yes to more than 2 questions, then chances are you hate your job – or are on your way to hating it.

But Lo! There are legends of workplaces that are not unlike a waking dream; employees are called “Colleagues” and they walk the halls surrounded by a lightness of being that Milan Kundera would appreciate. Smiles and greetings are freely given; and requests for advice and assistance fall on eager ears. Bosses are called “Mentors” and are mindful of the fact that their Job is to serve the Greater Good by getting the best out of everyone who is in their charge.

Even the halls reflect the healthy mental attitude; echoing only the sound of productive conversation in the work area, and the sound of laughter from the Break Room. In this office, the Coffee is always hot; the mugs are always clean and no one interrupts you when you look busy – mutual respect, fellow plebeians, is the name of the game.

The Workplace Heaven I have just described does exist. Just not in our country. But it’s not like we’re born with this attitude – we learn it through experience. It has been handed down to us, like a horrific folk tale, through the generations; propagating and magnifying the soul-draining black hole that is The Egyptian Workplace.

Any Employee of Western inclination, particularly American, will proudly announce that there is no “I” in teamwork. In an Egyptian Workplace, it is often repeated; but what they don’t mention is that there is no “U” either. The work that you do, unless you brand it all over with your name, is in danger of being attributed to someone else, and the “Boss” who actually hates you for being smarter than they are, will jump at the chance to cut you down in front of his superiors and subordinates alike.

What’s more, any offers of help to a newer employee are typically met with wariness and mistrust. Observe the typical thought process of a newly hired Indoctrinated Egyptian Employee:

“Why is he/she being so nice?”

“What does he/she have to gain by helping me with this task?”

“Maybe they’re after the credit, or at the very least, are trying to make themselves look good by helping out the newer hires, while at the same time making me out to look like an idiot. F#$K that, I don’t want their damn help.”

For a fresh college graduate, being faced with this type of behavior can get depressing. All the lofty ideals and shiny dreams of “doing things better, and doing better things” are flushed down the drain when you realize your BFO (Best Friend at the Office) has actually been using you to fight his/her battles, safely keeping themselves far away from the action and leaving you high and dry when the sh!t hits the fan. “Work worth doing” indeed – as long as it’s someone else’s dirty work.

So we’re taught to become more guarded – less “helpful”. Less camaraderie, more competition. These are not your friends at the office – they are your rivals who spend their 9 to 5 thinking of ways to make you fail, and climb up on your back to reach the top.

The Passive Aggressive Day-Mare

The diseased workplace is steeped in passive aggressiveness. Check your email inbox now. Count how many emails are sent to you from the person sitting at the end of the hall with the words “You are kindly requested to…” or “kindly be informed that…” There is no “kindness” about that email; if it were, then it would have been said in person, verbally. Especially egregious is when superiors are CC’ed in a communication that can only serve to intentionally make the recipient look bad. And signing the email with an automated “Kind Regards” does not make it better – the words drip with disdain and sarcasm sitting there on your Dell flat-screen monitor, mocking you.

The terrible beauty of the Passive Aggressive communication is that you cannot retaliate. Even if it is apparent to everyone involved in the communication, it is still an impregnable fortress. Your best bet is to swallow your pride, and bide your time till the opportunity arises where you can repay the favor – only more effectively. And so the Dance of Sorrow plays on and on. Fake smiles and handshakes that are curiously firm belie the growing tension; until either one of you quits, or is able to deal the death blow to the other.

This just adds to the stresses we face in our daily lives; there are bills to pay, families to see and diapers to buy. All this is hard enough without having to worry about the tension at the office.

Nepotism Despotism

The word is out; the Big Man upstairs has overruled all the hiring managers and awarded a coveted position to a less deserving candidate. Why? Because they happen to be related or come recommended from a close friend. This is an especially thorny situation, because it puts this new addition to the “team” at an immediate disadvantage. Co workers will immediately dislike him/her and even if she does show promise, it will never be good enough. Eventually, the “I know people” card will be played, and through a display of terrible favoritism, the knowledge that this person is untouchable and above reproach will be well known. Fallout from this unfortunate episode tends to be an exodus of highly qualified and senior employees who finally decide that the last straw has arrived and it is time to move to greener pastures.

And while everyone who quits a job would like to think that this would, in the words of a friend of mine, “teach them a lesson” sadly this is not true. It only empties the playing field for the less talented and better supported employees to climb the ladder and take over. This ends up being the downward spiral for the company; leading either to failure and the shuttering of its doors, or the consistent drop in quality and development of a well known reputation as a “bad work environment.”

Who Cares?

Certainly not the owner, who gets paid either way. Corporate culture in Egypt does not grasp the concept of Employee Appreciation, no matter how many surveys you fill out. And this makes complete sense: there is no shortage of able bodied workers to take your place, and while the job market is not shrinking, it’s definitely not expanding rapidly enough to accommodate all the new college graduates every year. So your low-paid, boring, mind-numbingly stupid job get more and more valuable each day. And if you complain, there are literally thousands more who are capable of doing your job.

And so, in the end, it is Fear that rules the Egyptian Workplace. Fear of losing a Job in this economy; fear of attracting the reproach of a superior, either by saying or doing the wrong thing. Fear of your co-workers snaking your work and getting the spotlight for something they had no part in. And so the fear increases till you find yourself physically going to work each day, but mentally you’re somewhere else. Why bother? Just check in and check out every day so you can get that check at the end of the month. Rinse, wash and repeat. The sorry existence of a “Mowazaf”. And, after 3 to 5 years of doing this, you’ll open your eyes and realize that you’ve wasted your time playing it safe; the promotion you should have been awarded years ago is still elusive, either because your coworkers have surgically fused their lips to the manager’s ass; or because you were too busy browsing Facebook each day that you forgot to apply yourself and prove them wrong.

What now?

Always hold yourself to a higher standard. Achieving greatness sounds easy, but when faced with a discouraging atmosphere, it becomes so much harder. Hard not just to excel, but also to remain unaffected by it all. To keep your sanity and lofty ideals free from the stains of jealousy, fear and stupidity. But that makes the struggle more worthwhile. Hard work will always be rewarded; and with enough luck, you may end up having the corner office in an office I like to call “workplace heaven”.

Wesam has recently been spotted atop various Zamalek rooftops howling at the moon. If you see him, tell him Ridge from “The Bold and the Beautiful” called and he wants his hair back.

When I was in university, I lived alone in my family apartment in Nasr City. I had to learn how to cook and clean for myself; and after the first 6 months, I had it down to a science. One thing I could never learn, however, was waking up on time. In my second year, I had an exam at 8am. I spent the whole night studying and went to bed at 3am, confident that my alarm clock and adrenaline levels would wake me up in time.

I woke up at 8:20.

The next 20 minutes were a flurry of cussing, yelling and speeding as I drove frantically to Abbassia and my exam. Any unfortunate soul who happened to drive slower than 100 Kilometers an hour was subjected to a barrage of insults that, were I to repeat them on these pages, would turn your hair white and land me in jail for public indecency. I leaned on the horn every time another car even thought of overtaking me. Even the traffic officers were not spared my vitriol; I challenged their mothers’ honor and gave them the finger as I broke every traffic rule in the book.

There are other stories, too. Driving peacefully along one fantastic afternoon, a flat bed pickup truck cut me off. Suddenly, the smile on my face turned to a twisted scowl of fury. I tailgated the offender for 30 minutes, honking at him and making obscene gestures with every appendage at my disposal. Eventually, I got in front of him, and began slowing down, making sure he couldn’t overtake me, dispensing sweet justice for the crime he committed.

But nothing good ever came of it. I was so hopped up on adrenaline and anger that I ended up insulting the professor when he asked innocently why I was late. As it turned out, waking up late is not what made me miss that exam, it was my own unchecked aggression and explosive anger brought on by my road rage. As for the Truck that cut me off? After giving him an intimate view of my car’s tailpipe for about 5 minutes, he took a right turn (and the moral high road) and left me feeling empty, petty and quite stupid.

You wouldn’t like me when I’m Angry

I’m not proud of road rage. But I understand it. Sometimes I even accept it. There are some days when my tolerance for the comedy of errors that is driving in Cairo grates on my already frayed nerves and my only outlet is the twenty something girl driving the jeep in front of me. On these days, it’s as if every driver in Cairo took the stupid pill with their morning tea and are now conspiring to burst the vein in my forehead.

Some of the funniest and most common interruptions to my cell phone conversations happen when my friends on the other end are driving. This happened to me the other night:

“So what are we upto tonight”

“I dunno, I was thinking we could head upto – SONOFAFUCKINGBITCH!!! YA EBN EL SHARMOOTA!! (Son of a whore)

“Err, dude? What the hell, man. Calm down!”

“Sorry, some piece of shit just cut me off; so anyway…YA KHAWWAL!! (You Faggot!) ”

A Necessary Evil

From a psychological standpoint, road rage is a coping mechanism, albeit an immature and ugly one, especially when you’re on the receiving end. Personally, I find it very cathartic. Road Rage gives us an excuse to vent all that pent up frustration we’ve accumulated over time. During the torrent of insults and hand gestures, the object of our anger shifts from the brain dead taxi driver taking a left turn from the right lane, to the last person to really piss us off. Like a work colleague, partner or even a family member.

A few people I know end up embracing their inner rageaholic, subconsciously relishing and depending on these precious venting episodes. It’s like going to psychotherapy but without the couch. But some people take it too far. I had a friend who once tailgated this poor girl for a whole 20 minutes before overtaking her, and stopping in the middle of the road. As she locked the doors and rolled up the windows, he punched and kicked her Volkswagen, spitting and cursing for what seemed an eternity before I was able to pull him off the car and drive away.

My horror stemmed not only from the craziness I saw unfold in front of my eyes, but also from the cold realization that this girl was really cute, and my friend was destroying any chance I could ever have of asking her out.
Road rage is an entirely unattractive trait.

Count to ten…

I will not encourage Road Rage. I’ve even stopped driving to curb my outbursts, and even though the hole in my wallet gets bigger and bigger, at least the vein in my head is not in danger of exploding in a dark pink mist of blood. But the onus isn’t just on us to control ourselves, and not everyone can afford the luxury of being driven around this fair city of ours. The solution, then, is to become better, more considerate drivers.

The most common offenses are also the most avoidable ones, and in the interest of making this a more driver friendly city, I’ve listed them below.

1. Not signaling when taking a turn. The element of surprise is not a desirable trait in a driver; unless you’re re-enacting the car chase scene from “Ronin”. Think about this: Even formula One cars have signals on them. If they can signal while driving around a track at 200 Kilometers an hour, then you should have no problems grasping this basic skill driving along in your lime green Skoda at 40.
2. Speaking on the cell phone when driving. It’s obnoxious and reduces your ability to make proper driving decisions. For all the smartasses out there, this also includes texting. I fail to understand how some people think composing a text message while on The 6th October Bridge is less dangerous than holding a phone to your ear.
3. Automotive Acrobatics. If you’re taking a left turn, make sure you’re in the left lane so you don’t have to switch lanes abruptly and cut off the flow of oncoming traffic. Don’t drive the wrong way down a one way street, and if you do, don’t sit there like a rock and try to stare down incoming traffic. You’re the one who is wrong,
4. Honking the Horn. Do not use your horn. Instead, flash your lights if you want to get the other drivers attention. This not only reduces noise pollution – Cairo ranks among the top ten loudest cities in the world – but it’s also a scientifically proven fact that the sound of a car horn makes drivers more nervous and on edge. Take home message: fewer honks, more happy faces.
5. Indiscriminate use of the high beams, especially when driving down a narrow two way street. I know there are some roads that are poorly lit; but a quick flash of the high beams is enough; there’s no need to blind the poor bastard coming in the opposite direction.

If you typically do more than 2 out of the 5 offenses I’ve mentioned, then you deserve to be drawn and quartered, after being deep fried in burning oil. Your driver’s license should be revoked and instead of driving a car, be forced to ride overcrowded public transport for the rest of your life.

I am married. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, I am committed to this relationship. Since 1996, I’ve been a Zamalek fan, and while we had a few good years, it’s mostly been hard times. Sometimes I find myself hiding the fact that I am “Zamalkawy” – other times I defend her honor, even in the face of a blood red “Ahlaweyya” crowd, armed with damning and irrefutable evidence that Al-Ahly is indeed the better club.

So what if they are?

I’m not in love with Ahly. The Scarlet Harlot, the good time girl of every Egyptian soccer “fan” who claim to love her when he’s on top, but hate her vehemently when she’s going down. An Ahly fan, or “Ahlawy”, for the most part turns on his team when they lose; blaming everyone from the team’s troublemaker star player to the latest foreign coach in charge. Even the celebrated Manuel Jose in his farewell speech to the fans, coyly dedicated his honorary plaque to “the fans who support Ahly only when we win”. Fair-weather Mohammeds. If Ahly  continues to lose, they will probably head straight onto the next club du jour. The only thing on their mind is the thrill of the win, and will resort to soliciting any other club that can get them off.

A Zamalek fan, however, sticks by their beloved when she’s down. Instead of switching clubs, we prefer the celibacy associated with supporting a club imploding upon itself; hoping that one day she’ll return to her former glory.

It is said that Al Ahly is the first true Egyptian club – a club by the people and for the people. Zamalek, by contrast, was the club of the elite, educated and cultured upper class of yesteryear. A club for the princes and princesses of etiquette and industry. Since then, yes, times have been hard; but the parallel still remains – we choose to support the club with full knowledge of their winningless ways. An Ahly fan – uncouth, vulgar and unrefined – supports Ahly and their success as a surrogate of their own lack of such.

The way I see it, there’s no fun in being a fan of the only winning team in Egyptian soccer. Winning for Ahly is the norm, so I actually pity the fans for not knowing the nail biting excitement that comes with watching your team play a match whose outcome could mean the difference between glory and crushing disappointment.

Is Ahly the most successful club in Egypt? Well, yeah. I’m not blind. But that’s not the issue here. I challenge the conviction of the Ahly fans. Will you still be around if the next 100 years aren’t as successful?

To the Zamalek fans, I encourage continued patience and perseverance – your club needs you now more than ever. Our time will come, so meanwhile, we should do our part to support the good old boys in white during their time of duress.

I’ve recently left my full time job; and I have to say, I do not miss the office. I do not miss the politics, the horrible office lunches nor do I miss the sound of the passive aggressive troll crowing on her desk phone 3 meters away. What I do miss, however, is taking advantage of the rights given to us by the Egyptian Labor Law. Specifically, the regulations governing sick leave days. Did you know the law requires our employers to provide medical insurance to their employees? While this doesn’t necessarily guarantee the quality of medical care we receive, at least we won’t have to pay for it if we do eventually need it.

One small caveat though: If you’ve been dicked out of a contract, are working freelance or still in your probationary period (the first 3 months of employment) then I have 3 words of advice for you:

Don’t. Get. Sick.

It’s the tail end of spring, and this time of year usually means that people are getting sick with the flu left and right. Add to that the emerging epidemics of Swine Flu and Bird Flu; and it makes even more sense for us to take full advantage of our rights as full time, contracted employees. If you think about it, it is our civic duty to take advantage of Sick Leave. You don’t want to be “that guy” who gets everyone at the office sick because you were too timid to take a sick day. In my opinion, if you come into work sick, then you might as all well give everyone the finger while you’re at it, too.

Guess who wins?

Sometimes, though, managers will do everything in their power to discourage you from taking a sick day. This is when the psychological bully in every manager comes out. You call him/her up in the morning, and tell them in your most feeble voice “I’m sorry <cough> but I can’t come in today, I feel really <cough> sick”. Invariably, the first thing they try to do is diagnose you over the phone. Doctors can’t even do that. Then they’ll administer their “foolproof” telephone lie detector test, subjecting you to a battery of questions. By the end of the phone call, your fever has spiked, your headache has grown to the size of Sinai and you’ve agreed to take a half day vacation and come in later in the day.

We’re entitled up to 6 months of paid sick leave a year.

Plus they are completely independent from your annual leave entitlement, which is 21 working days a year. But before you start getting any ideas, your illness must be established and determined by a medical professional at the Employer’s discretion.  At most companies, they ask for a doctor’s report only if you miss 2 or more consecutive days due to illness. And in case you didn’t catch it the first time:

Your illness must be established and determined by a medical professional at the Employer’s discretion.

I’m a licensed doctor, so the first time I took a 3 day sick leave, I didn’t bother asking them to refer me to a company doctor – I diagnosed myself, treated myself and wrote my own report. When I submitted the report, proud that I had followed the rules, the HR lady looked at me and laughed disapprovingly. I had those 3 days deducted from my annual leave that year.

In case you’re wondering, it is against the law for you to get fired based on your medical condition – provided you’ve been sick for less than six months during the year. If you go over that magic number, then your ass is grass. If they prove you weren’t sick, however, then your ass is grass anyway.

Furthermore, you’ll probably only get paid 75% of your normal wage during your long-term sick leave. Why? Because that is the minimum, stipulated by the labor law. Why pay you more when they can pay you less?

Sorry to crush your dreams of a half year lazing about on some beach in Sinai, but unless you have cancer or worse, it’s not going to happen.

Introducing your new best friend at the office: The One Day Sick Leave.

But if you do wake up one morning and feel a bit “under the weather”, then the best thing to do is take that one day as a “sick day”. But be professional about it: you’re taking this day off because you do not want to contaminate the rest of the office with whatever it is you’re coming down with. You want to rest so that the next day, you’re healthy and ready to get back to your winning form. That’s just good business.

The non-primate readers will already have figured out that the “one day sick leave” does not need to be established by a doctor. This minor but important detail is especially useful for women. Yes, we know, you bleed once a month for a week, and for some strange reason you do not die. I will not get into why, but that’s just freaky. It does explain, however, why you womenfolk tend to get all bitchy and testy that time of the month. I can always tell. Why? I’m a Doctor. And in my professional medical opinion, it is a great idea for women all over the world to take a sick day if their period or PMS is acting up. This saves them being ostracized by the office for going on a 15 minute high pitched rant against whoever ate the last piece of chocolate cake. Once again, that’s just good business.

Play it Smart

Most, if not all, privately owned companies try to take full advantage of the fact that their employees do not read the labor law. What you all should also realize is that the law serves as the bare minimum of guidelines for a company – there are still company specific guidelines that are also required by law to be posted in your workplace. I suggest you get off your comfy chair, stop flirting with the new girl and read them. Know your rights. If you have a pre-existing condition that would incapacitate you, then mention it on your first day at work – not at the interview, that’s just stupid – the non-primate readers will agree with me. Letting your boss know beforehand reduces the strain and stress of calling in sick, especially since they’re expecting it. Of course, you will need to provide relevant medical records to substantiate your claim that you have “Seasonal Affective Disorder”.

But most of all try to be professional about it. Don’t abuse it and ruin it for the rest of us. Damn slackers.

These days, Wesam spends his nights searching for the elusive Desert Truffle over at nothungrycuziate.com

Stuff I find incredibly interesting at 3am on a Wednesday while getting double teamed by Insomnia and Boredom.

Stick around, you might learn something.