I had decided last night. I just had way too much work that I never got the chance to take care of on the weekend.

In bed, I called Canada Post, ext. 2004 to reach staffing. It rang and rang and nobody picked up. I tried again, one finger pressing a nostril shut, in anticipation of sounding slightly stuffed. But still, nobody picked up.

Then I tried calling the supervisor. No answer.

I tried calling another supervisor. This time. “Canada Post, Andrew speaking.” But I don’t know who Andrew is.

“Hi. My name is Matt Prins. I’m a letter carrier… anyway. I’m trying to get ahold of staffing.”

“Sure. Hold on. I’ll connect you.”

Twenty seconds later Andrew was back, “They’re not answering. Is there something I can pass along?”

“Well. Yeah. I’m calling in sick. I’m letter carrier 112.”

“112? What was your name again?” He asked.

“Matt Prins.”

“And what do you want me to tell them?”

“Uh… Well. I’m sick. I’ve got the stomach flu…” Do I really have to spell this out? “I’m not coming in.”

“Do you think you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I guess. I hope.” I always say ‘I hope’ when I call in sick. I’m going for ‘earnest’, here.

“Ok. Thanks.”

No. Thank YOU, Andrew. Whoever the fuck you are, you pervert.

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