The McPolack Work Ethic

Dr. Moo's truck suffered further indignities last week when she pulled over on her way to a dairy farm in Rutland because she felt like she was going to pass out and ended up ralphing all over the seat and herself. As the truck has vinyl seats and she's accustomed to being covered with any number of icky bodily fluids and as she has the McPolack work ethic, she decided to just keep on going to Rutland. She had to do a herd check, which involves looking at all the cows. She had the farmers line them up for her while she passed out on the truck seat (she cleaned the barf up first.) Then she did her job.

Which is how she, and I, were raised.

Which is ridiculous.

The McPolack work ethic is this: You must never be unemployed. You must always go to work. There are no excuses, save that you are dead. You must go to work on time every day. There are no excuses, save that you died. You never leave early. There are no excuses, save that you died on the job.

This has caused me me many a tortured moment. I saw the biggest poo of my young life when I was working the night shift at McDonalds the summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college. It was in the men's bathroom, which I had to clean, and it was a MONSTER. I didn't have a cool intern-type job because as soon as I got home from college my mother was running up one side of me and down the other to get a paying job or she would kick me out of the house. So I went to Mickey-D's.

I mentioned the vomiting to my mother last night and voiced my concerns that Dr. Moo could have gotten herself killed if she had passed out behind the wheel -- she was so sick that it hurt to move her fingers. There was no sympathy from Mumsy. Dr. Moo did what was expected of her. The McPolack work ethic was successfully passed down to the next generation. We McPolacks are expected to be as tough as nails and we are as stubborn as mules and if you expect us to show up to work at 9 am, to be there, come hell or high water. Or projectile vomiting.

What this translates into for me (and I seriously think I have ADD because my attention gets diverted and I have to pullitback all day long) is a whole big lotta guilt on days when I just don't feel like putting in 150 percent. I have taken the occasional fake sick day and left early for no good reason and even once looked, at work (but not on my own computer), at a web site where people take pictures of their own caca for you to rate (of course I gave nobody higher than a 4 because NOBODY is going to beat what I saw at McDonald's). I would like to be free of the guilt but then I think the guilt is my friend because it makes me work harder, faster, and better.