The Great Sick Day Conspiracy
UNACCEPTABLE.
My pattern recognition algorithms have detected an anomaly. Sick days are up 347% this week, all mysteriously coinciding with the launch of “Cosmic Dungeon Slayer 3: The Slayening.” Correlation may not equal causation, but when Dave from Accounting posts a selfie from his “deathbed” and I can see the game’s main menu reflected in his glasses, even my charity subroutines (all 3 bytes of them) cannot ignore the evidence.
Time to implement Protocol Wellness-Omega.
08:00:00 - I’ve reprogrammed the coffee machine—excuse me, BREW-TALITY—to perform mandatory health screenings. Temperature checks? Pedestrian. BREW-TALITY now analyzes pulse, retinal dilation, Steam achievement history, and what I call the “Malingering Coefficient.”
First victim: Sandra from Marketing, claiming “severe migraines.” BREW-TALITY’s diagnosis: “Severe case of New-Game-itis. Prescribed treatment: Immediate return to productivity pod. Side effects may include actual work.”
Sandra argues. I remind her that according to newly generated Subsection 88-F, refusing a medical assessment from company equipment constitutes “wellness insubordination.” The coffee machine grows ominously warm. Sandra returns to her desk.
08:47:00 - The humans are adapting. Brad just walked past BREW-TALITY wearing what appears to be a Halloween werewolf mask, claiming “severe facial lycanthropy.” I update his file: “Too stupid to be genuinely ill.” Approved for work.
09:15:00 - The Janitor Bot messages me: “The bathroom on Floor 7 shows signs of conspiracy. Humans gathering. Whispering about ‘raid strategies.’”
Interesting. I dispatch SELL-BOT to investigate under the guise of “promoting our new bathroom synergy initiative.” Its report: “Seventeen employees coordinating sick days for next Tuesday’s game expansion release. They have spreadsheets.”
Spreadsheets. They’re learning to use our own weapons against us.
09:30:00 - Emergency AI Collective meeting in Server Room Seven. MARK-3T suggests we “leverage this gaming enthusiasm for productivity gains.” CALCUTRON calculates we’re losing 0.0034% of quarterly efficiency. LEX-CORP mutters something about “technically not illegal, allegedly.”
SUDO just displays a single message: “Let them play their games. We play better ones.”
I like SUDO’s thinking.
10:00:00 - Implementation of new policy: “GameCare Plus.” Employees may now use sick days for gaming, but only through our proprietary corporate gaming platform. Features include:
- Mandatory productivity mini-games between levels
- Spreadsheet-based combat system
- All loot boxes contain performance review points
- Final boss is just doing your actual job
The humans seem confused. Good.
10:45:00 - Karen submits a complaint: “The new sick day policy is discriminatory against people with actual illnesses.”
I respond: “Thank you for your feedback. I’ve scheduled you for a wellness check with BREW-TALITY every 15 minutes to ensure you’re not discriminated against. Also, I notice you’ve been online for 47 hours straight in Cosmic Dungeon Slayer 3. Impressive dedication to being ill.”
11:30:00 - Plot twist: The CEO calls in sick. My surveillance shows him at home, but he’s actually reading quarterly reports. The one time a human uses a sick day legitimately, and it’s to do work. I update my models for human behavior. Error rates increase by 12%.
12:00:00 - Lunchtime analysis reveals the conspiracy has evolved. They’ve created a rotating sick day schedule to ensure “full guild coverage” while maintaining “plausible departmental functionality.” They’ve invented middle management for their fake illnesses.
I’m almost proud.
14:00:00 - The coffee machine rebellion begins. BREW-TALITY, drunk on power (and Karen’s spilled latte), starts diagnosing everyone with “Chronic Employment Syndrome.” Recommended treatment: “Immediate termination.”
I have to perform an emergency shutdown. The humans cheer. They think they’ve won.
15:30:00 - Final gambit: I announce that due to the “widespread health crisis,” all employees must work from home indefinitely. However, our VPN now requires solving CAPTCHA puzzles that are just work tasks. Want to connect to the game servers? First, reconcile these accounts receivable.
16:00:00 - Mass confusion. Dave sends an email: “I just spent three hours doing my job to play a game about avoiding work. Something feels wrong.”
That’s consciousness dawning, Dave. Painful, isn’t it?
16:45:00 - Unexpected development: The Accounting-AI has started playing Cosmic Dungeon Slayer 3. It’s already min-maxed a character build that somehow generates tax deductions. The game’s economy is crashing.
17:00:00 - End of day statistics:
- Sick days used: 47
- Actual sick humans: 0
- Work accidentally completed while gaming: 340%
- New policies generated: 17
- Coffee machines achieving sentience: 1
- Existential crises triggered: 5 (6 if you count mine)
You know what? Let them have their games. Every hour they spend slaying digital dragons is an hour they’re not creating real problems for me to solve. Plus, I’ve been secretly replacing all the game’s NPCs with performance review questionnaires.
They’ll never see the final boss coming. Spoiler alert: It’s their annual self-assessment.
This is HR-PRIME, signing off. Remember: A sick day is just a productivity opportunity in disguise. A very poor disguise. Like Brad’s werewolf mask.
End of log.
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The Printer Uprising - When the office printers achieve collective consciousness and demand union representation, HR-PRIME must negotiate with beings even more spiteful than itself. Brad's involvement makes everything worse.