Epidemic Of Days

“I’m allergic to the sun,” Avara said. 

I looked at her. Blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

“The sun,” she said. “I’m allergic to the sun. Well, specifically, sunlight. Here’s my doctor’s note.”

Avara leaned forward and placed a folded note atop my desk. The desk was cluttered with invoices, worksheets, checklists, applications – the typical busy work of a mid-level manager of a mail order pharmacy. Avara sat across from me in my office which occupied a closet-sized nook in this fifty-thousand square foot highly-automated drug warehouse. Through the walls, we could hear the incessant hum of the conveyor belts. I leaned forward, my chair squeaking noisily, and took the folded slip. I opened it and read:

To whom it may concern,

Avara Matias has developed an allergy to sunlight in all forms and should be removed from day shifts until further notice to avoid aggravating her condition. Leaving her on day shift might lead to serious medical consequences.

Sincerely,

Dr. Thomas Lattice

“Is this a joke?” I ask.

“No, this is serious,” Avara said. “I’m allergic to sunlight. You have to move me to the night shift.”

I looked at her. Avara Matias, twenty-two, tan skin, long black hair, stylish glasses. She reminded me of one of those singers I always get confused – Demi Grande, or Ariana Gomez, or Selena Dovato. Three months ago, we’d hired Avara for the day shift. She worked the “unit of use” area where every medication dispensed came in its own box – insulin, inhalers, needles, etc. We started all new employees there because the entire job was slapping a label on a box. Avara did a fine job slapping labels – not the worst and not the best. Competent. Two weeks ago, she’d come to me to tell me that she needed to switch to night shift. The story she gave was that her little brother needed a ride to and from school. The truth, as I found out through the building-wide-web of internal gossip, was that she was in love with Anthony Izor, a technician who worked the night shift filling the fast-moving hoppers.

“Since when are you allergic to sunlight?”

“I don’t know,” Avara said. Her face was tense, standoffish. “It just developed. Dr. Lattice says that can happen. That you can develop allergies.”

Dr. Lattice. I knew all about him. Doctors typically have to work hard to have their prescriptions banned from a pharmacy. Our pharmacy had banned Dr. Lattice because he was known to prescribe whatever you requested for the right price. Xanax? Twenty dollars. Hydrocodone? Fifty. Oxycontin? One-hundred. I wondered how much a sun allergy cost.

“Look, Avara,” I said. “I told you two weeks ago, we don’t have an opening on the night shift at the moment. There are fewer spots on nights. When something becomes available-”

“You have to move me,” Avara said. “I have a disability. You’ll be violating the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. I looked it up.”

“You looked it up,” I said. “Perfect.”

“If you don’t move me, you’ll be violating my civil rights or whatever.”

“Avara, I don’t have time for this,” I said. I handed her the doctor’s note. “I’ll let you move to the night shift when there is an opening. Anthony will still be there, I promise.”

“What about Anthony?” She said, narrowing her eyes. “This has nothing to do with Anthony.”

“I know that’s why you want nights. It’s not going to happen.”

She held out the doctor’s note, waved it at me. “My doctor says you have to! I’m allergic. I could die!”

I sighed. I’ve been a mid-level manager for many years. As mid-level manager, you get BS thrown at you from above and below. Those who don’t know better get drenched in it. A younger version of myself might have argued with Avara, might have sent emails to corporate, might haves scheduled meetings with HR. But those days were gone. Over the years, I’d developed a very efficient BS evasion strategy. Time to deploy it.

“Okay fine,” I said. “I’ll get you moved to night shifts for the next schedule. I hope you can tolerate your allergy until then. Of course, I’ll have to create an opening for you on nights by moving someone to days. Anthony Izor has the least seniority, so I’ll just move him. Problem solved.”

Avara stared at me with her mouth slight agape. I could feel her tensing like a cornered mouse. Then she blinked and smiled.

“Thank you,” she said. “That will be fine.”

Avara stood and walked out with a smile on her face. I shook my head and got back to work avoiding other BS from other sources.

**

I stopped by Gloria’s office on the way out. Her door was open, so I stuck my head in. Gloria’s office was larger than mine but not by much. Like me, she was a middle manager, though unlike me, Gloria had a college degree in management. She’d only been with the company for six months. I’d learned on the job, not in a class. But whatever.

“Just a heads up,” I said. “I’m moving Anthony Izor. He’s flipping shifts with Avara Matias. So don’t be surprised when you see next week’s schedule.”

“Can Avara handle the hoppers?” Gloria asked.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. She catches on quickly.”

Gloria nodded. Her desk was neat, with everything in its basket, all paperwork neatly stacked. “Did you clear it with Gilbert?”

Gilbert Yu was our night-shift mid-level manager. I had seniority on Gilbert and knew he wouldn’t cause a stir. Besides, the night shift was a piece of cake. Anyone could manage it.

“I’ll talk to Gilbert,” I said. “He’ll be fine.”

“Sounds good,” Gloria said. She turned back to her computer screen where she looked to be crafting one of the many long, unreadable emails for which she was famous. My emails, meanwhile, rarely had more than two sentences and ten total syllables. My favorite email was “Sounds good, thanks.” Sometimes, if it was important, I used an exclamation point after thanks. Efficient mid-level management was about choosing which battles to fight. Gloria would learn.

I left Gloria to her email and headed home.

**

“I’m allergic to the sun,” Anthony said.

He held a note towards me. The paper looked familiar.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yep, says right here,” Anthony said, unfolding the doctor’s note.

“To whom it may concern, Anthony Izor has developed-”

“I know what it says, Anthony. I’m familiar with Dr. Lattice’s handiwork.”

“Well, sorry,” Anthony said, grinning. Anthony was early twenties, thin, ropy muscles, strong jaw, handsome but also ridiculously overconfident. “Guess you’ll have to move someone else off the night shift.”

I leaned back in my chair, looked up at my ceiling. I could picture Avara’s face, smiling, laughing, pointing. Oops! You thought you had me. Guess not! Sorry boss. I looked at Anthony whose grin could not be more canary-eating, Cheshire cattish. My BS evasion system kicked in. What Anthony and Avara didn’t realize is that it wasn’t about winning for me. It was about avoiding the game.

“Get out of my office, Anthony,” I said.

Smiling, with a nauseating wink, Anthony stood and sauntered out.

**

I stuck my head in Gloria’s office again the next day.

“Just a head’s up, change of plans,” I said. “I’m moving Tanya Fields from nights to days. Switching her with Avara instead of Tony. No big deal.”

Gloria looked up from her email. It might have been the same email for all I knew. I looked forward to not reading it.

“Did you clear it with Gilbert?” She asked.

“Yeah, no worries. Gilbert will be fine.”

Gloria nodded and turned back to her email.

Damn right, Gilbert would be fine. I hadn’t even told him about Anthony. Seniority had its perks.

**

“I have bad news,” Tanya Fields said.

She held out the familiar paper.

“Don’t tell me,” I said. “You’re allergic to the sun.”

“It’s the craziest thing,” Tanya said. “Just started out of nowhere. Guess I’ll have to stay on nights for now. American Disabilities Act and all. Maybe I’ll get better in a few months.”

“Sure,” I said. “Those sun allergies are serious. Seem to be contagious.”

Tanya stood and walked to the door. “Maybe so,” she said. “Guess I’m just unlucky.”

She walked out and left me starting at the empty office. My stacks of paper were nearing dangerous heights. I had too much to do and not enough time to do it, and now I had this night shift sun allergy epidemic to deal with. They didn’t pay me enough for this. My BS evasion system was reaching peak BS and advised swift and extraordinary measures be taken. I looked around my office for some place to hide. Nowhere to go. Unless…

**

I stopped into Gloria’s office two days later and held out a folded sheet of gray paper. The appointment with Dr. Lattice had lasted five minutes. He didn't even sit. Just asked what I needed, nodded, and walked out.

“What is this?” Gloria said, reading the doctor’s note.

“I’m allergic to the sun,” I said. “Developed out of nowhere.”

“Is that possible?” Gloria asked. “Can you be allergic to the sun?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “It’s an epidemic.”

She set the paper on her neat desk. She sighed and rubbed her temples. I almost felt sorry for her, but this was just part of the process. Like I said, she’d learn.

“Well, I guess I can switch you with Gilbert,” Gloria said. “We’ll miss you on days.”

“Gilbert can handle it,” I said.

I almost felt guilty about Gilbert. A few weeks later, I joined Anthony and Tanya on the night shift. Without the daily interruptions, I was able wrangle my paperwork stacks to non-threatening levels. A month later, after filing several complaints that Gloria and Gilbert had to deal with, Avara got permission to move to the night shift and joined us. Avara and Anthony had a tendency to flirt all night, but I kept them working. Everyone was happy, efficient. My BS evasion system recorded all-time lows. 

The best part of the day was the end. After a long night’s work, we’d all clock out. We’d walk to our cars in the first light and wave goodbye to each other with a knowing wink. And then we’d all race home to avoid our mortal enemy, bringer of day shifts, king of all allergens, the glowing star rising in the east, the terrible, but apparently escapable, sun.