This used to happen a lot many years ago. I would have treated my job a little more seriously had I not drunk heavily the night before. I can remember it like it was yesterday. People used to joke with me and say I had “Tuesdayitis,” because for some reason that was the day I stayed home and called in sick — that’s if I bothered at all to call. When I was living with my cousin and her husband, they would have little gatherings to watch movies and play polka. They would be having a few quiet drinks, so I thought I should join them. The problem is there is no kill switch with me: once I have a beer, I’m going to have a dozen more. When I was intoxicated like that, work was barely at the back of my mind. I felt good, drunk in the moment, and convinced that getting to work in the morning would be no problem. I often thought that until the morning arrived and my alarm went off. Nope, I’d tell myself. I can’t make it in today, and that’s what I told my boss when I rang in sick — usually on a Tuesday. Depending on how much I drank and how hungover I was, sometimes I wouldn’t call at all; the boss would call me and I wouldn’t answer the phone. This didn’t happen just on Tuesdays — it could be any day of the week, sometimes more than once in a week. I look back and cringe. I had some growing up to do and had to learn to treat my job with the respect it deserved. It wasn’t just the booze — I was also unwell with mental health issues. I would soon find myself in the Melbourne Clinic, even though I was meant to be turning up for work. I used up all of my sick pay and had no savings at the time. I went back to work after a week or two and then found myself in hospital again. It got to the point where the store manager said they couldn’t keep me. In a strange way that was somewhat good news, because by then I had grown to hate the place.

Now that I look back, I realize I should have played my cards right and carried out my responsibilities more efficiently. I might have climbed the ladder to a respectable position, but my illness prevented that progress. My hangovers and drinking on the job didn’t help either. In the end, I resigned before they had the chance to fire me.