This Body is Bullshit

Just as I hit publish on my last post, reality walked into my office and reminded me why I do this work.

I had written that entry from work, fully expecting to wrap up my day and head out. Then a young employee came in—23 years old—and everything shifted.

He asked what kind of medical leave he could take for Friday, the day after Christmas. That immediately raised a flag, because you have to work the day before and the day after a holiday to be paid for it. If he didn’t work Friday, he wouldn’t be paid for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. I was skeptical.

He started explaining that he’s been having heart issues. Nervousness. Nausea. Tingling in his pinkies. The longer we talked, the more I noticed the smell of alcohol. The way he was looking at me. The way he was speaking. And eventually, I asked him—very directly—if he had a problem with alcohol.

Probably not the HR textbook way to handle it. But he’s 23. And it was heartbreaking.

He wanted to work today. He’s a nice kid. He’s also had attendance issues, and if he missed any more work or left early, he’d be terminated under policy. And that wasn’t going to help anyone.

He avoided the question for a bit, then finally admitted it. He told me he’s had a drinking problem since he was 14. He showed me a screenshot of a treatment facility his girlfriend had already lined up for him—she was planning to take him there after work.

I told him I knew he was intoxicated and I couldn’t allow him to work. I also told him I didn’t want to terminate him. I wanted him to go straight to treatment.

That’s when it really hit him.

He put his girlfriend on the phone, and I walked her through what we could do to protect his job and get him medical leave. This poor girl—she was calm, steady, supportive. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have her.

While we waited, I had him stay in my office. His brother also works here. Confidentiality-wise, I shouldn’t have said anything—but I needed his brother to check on him during break. His brother broke down in tears. He said this has been a long-standing issue in their family, and everyone is devastated.

Watching this unfold was devastating.

I hope I’m doing the right thing—trying to save his job and get him into treatment. I hope this is a turning point and not just another stop along the way. I can’t stop thinking about how hard this Christmas will be for that family.

So now I wait. Making sure the paperwork is right. Making sure he gets where he needs to go.

And I’ll be late to prime rib dinner.