Virus Man isn't brave, he's a thoughtless idiot

[chris79]

The last place I worked at you were judged on your attendance and time keeping. Your actual ability to do the job, specialist skills and knowledge were secondary to this.

Maybe virus man works at my previous gig.

[EternalOptimist]

A few years ago, I died from accelerated contagious necrotising facsiitis. I was put in an isolation room, cremated then the ashes were shot into space. But I still went into work. Kerchinnnng

[b0redom]

It's me at the moment. One of the permies gave me flu + a sinus infection, so I'm on a mission to spread it around the whole office.

[swamp]

I can understand a contractor coming in sick. But permies, what's the point?

[Mich the Tester]

Never understand why the permies come in when ill.

Around here they call it 'loyalty'. F**king deluded if you ask me.

[ace00]

Come on! Are you a contractor or not? No. Paid. Sick. Clientco new the risks.

[BrilloPad]

Maybe he is a contractor? Never understand why the permies come in when ill.

[Turion]

Reader, I married him.

Hey that advice may help the reluctant singletons amoungst us. Apparently if you become a sneezy, runny nosed snot bag you can pull UK birds no problem.

Always thought British chicks were weird

[Pogle]

Reader, I married him.

[Turion]

Does this match any of you? or do any of you have the misfortune to work with one of these snivellers. Comments welcome.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/c...ess-idiot.html

He is identifiable by a red nose, rheumy eyes and a hang-dog countenance which seeks to appear both heroic and wretched. His collar is up and a gigantic scarf, dug from the deepest recess of the closet, is wrapped around his neck.

He is standing forlornly on the train or bus, determined to get to work even though he feels terrible.

He splutters, hawks, hacks and coughs, oblivious to the angry faces and tut-tutts of his fellow travellers whose chances of getting through the winter unscathed by cold or flu have just been diminished by a million disease-laden droplets sprayed into the crowded carriage.

He is Virus Man, single-handedly capable of infecting 150 people with one gigantic sneeze. He is a pest who thinks he is being brave, and evidently imagines that all those standing near him must admire his courage.

He is inviting us to consider how indispensable he must be to whatever job it is he occupies. Without his infectious presence, the company for which he works, the Government post that he holds with such distinction, the advertising agency that relies upon his brilliance, all would fold overnight.

What is most galling about Virus Man is that he does not appear to possess the fashion accessory without which a gentleman never used to leave home and which he would always in the past have received for Christmas: a handkerchief. Nor even a tissue, for that matter.

The question on the curled lips of all who stare with barely-concealed contempt at Virus Man as he trudges stoically to work is: why don't you stay at home?