BOFH: I talked to Claude and he says you're an idiot

Working in the same place for what feels like millennia can have its benefits, however working for the same place for what seems like millennia carrying over all the benefits of your original contract can be even better than that.

Some of those benefits are, admittedly, useless to me. I'm unlikely to avail myself of the Company-reimbursed landline (that all on-call personnel are entitled to), and I won't be needing the 2400bps modem or the VT100 for after hours support. The one month pregnancy leave is also off the cards.

What is in play, however, as the PFY has recently discovered, is accumulated sick leave. It appears that we've been racking up two weeks a year to a point that I now have sufficient sick leave to safely get leprosy. 

Obviously, I'm not going to exercise that particular option, but both the PFY and I have been considering roads not taken in recent times...

...

"Ahh... Just, um, following up on your recent, uh, illnesses." The Boss asks uneasily.

"Oh yes?" I ask.

"This, uh, acute bronchitis a few Fridays back." 

"Oh yeah, it was terrible," I lie. "Hacking cough, not pleasant at all. I was wheezing like a coal-fired Trabant."

"And that particular illness lasted... a single day?"

"Apparently," I say. "All good now though."

"And Stephen. He had acute... otitis media around the same time."

"The ear thing?" I respond. "Yes, apparently it really affected his balance."

"Okay, fair enough. But then you had acute sinusitis on the Monday? And Stephen had asthma on the Tuesday?"

"Yes, that sounds about right." I nod.

"Then.. Back spasms for you last Friday and campylobacter for Stephen on Monday?"

"I blame myself. I carried a large Vindaloo banquet for six back to work on the Wednesday night. The PFY took the leftovers back home for dinner following day. He's never been great with food hygiene."

"And then I see fibromyalgia for you and food poisoning for Stephen?"

"Yeah, like I said, he's not that great with food hygiene. He tends to follow the five minute rule."

"Hmm. And is there any reason why you seem to be getting sick in... uh... alphabetical order?" the Boss asks.

"It's as much a mystery to you as to me," I admit, making a mental note to vary things a bit. "Illness seems to be attracted to us like a hippy to a salt lamp."

"And, uh, no medical certificate for any of these illnesses?" the Boss enquires.

"I checked with Claude, and he told me that according to my contract I'd only need a med cert for a three-or-more-days illness."

"You have been ill for more than three days. Just yesterday you had conjunctivitis."

"Firstly, I believe it's contiguous sick days, and secondly, the conjunctivitis was so bad it would have been irresponsible to drive to the doctor..."

"And yet your eyesight was sufficient for you to type in questions to Claude?" the Boss asks, astutely.

"Oh no, I spoke to Claude." 

It's a bit early to be calling check-mate at this stage, but I have to admit to feeling smug.

"The actual wording of your contract indicates that the conditions can be varied by written notice," the Boss points out.

"And I take it you've written a notice?" I ask, noticing a folded page in the Boss' hand.

The Boss hands the paper to me, still warm from the printer.

"You'll note that it's in writing, signed and dated," the Boss points out.

"Well that's me told," I say, feeling a little like I'll have a dental problem tomorrow.

...two days later...

"And so I'm just after your med cert for your, er, dental abscess," the Boss asks, skipping the niceties.

"Oh yes, right. I spoke to Claude, and he looked over my contract again. Apparently he says that giving me written notice is (a) not retrospective, and that I probably already had the dental issue before you gave me written notice, but also (b) written notice can only vary the contract by mutual agreement."

"And I take it you don't agree?" the Boss asks.

"Claude says I don't. But I got a medical opinion anyway."

… two minutes later..

"An email, apparently from Claude, saying it definitely sounds like you have an abscess is NOT a medical certificate."

"But Claude's a medical expert. He's got access to a vast database of medical information on the web."

"That doesn't count," the Boss snaps.

"Claude says it does," I counter.

"Oh, so Claude's a lawyer as well then?" the Boss snaps sarcastically.

"No, Claude's our new cleaner. Hell of a nice bloke. He suggested I talk to AI about my contract and everything."

"And?"

"Oh. It agrees with Claude. Oh, and it pointed out that apparently you owe Stephen and me a landline, a 2400 baud modem and a VT100 terminal."

"And I take it that's Stephen's opinion as well?"

"I'm not sure. I'll know when he gets back from gastroenteritis tomorrow. Honestly, that guy needs to use a fridge..."