I heard this sick leave story when I got to Chicago, and of course everyone swears it was true although I never met the subject. It seems this fellow Homer had been out amongst them one night and, as was often the case, had cut one out of the herd, and decided early in the morning that work didn’t fit his schedule for the day. So, he obligingly had the young lady make the call:
“Chicago Center,” the watch supervisor answered.
“Hello, I’m calling to tell you that Homer won’t be in to work today.”
“Homer who?” the sup asked, a natural question given the size of the complement—nearly 400 bodies.
(voice to the side) “Homer, honey, what’s your last name?”
One of the best things about these stories is you never hear of the repercussions.
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