“I Got it From Agnes”: the Theme Song for Earned Sick Time
Here in Philadelphia, there’s an ongoing campaign to ensure that all workers get earned sick time: that is, paid days off sick.
To someone like me, who’s had paid sick days for years, it’s a no-brainer. If you’re sick, or your kid is sick, you get a paid day off. But in Philly, 41% of working adults face a shitty choice: work sick, or lose hours and possibly their job.
At most jobs I’ve held, you get a specified number per year, to prevent abuse. The Philadelphia bill seems to use an accrual method. From the FAQ:
Both part-time and full-time workers are eligible to earn sick time under this bill. Employees of largebusinesses will only accrue 56 hours of earned sick time each year. Employees of small businesses will only accrue 40 hours of earned sick time each year. However, since part-time employees work fewer hours than full-time employees do, they will accrue less total time each year.
if it works like my sick days do, there’s probably no rollover, and you don’t get paid for what you don’t use.
As you might imagine, there are some misguided people who oppose the bill saying it will cost businesses money. I don’t think that’s true (there was similar opposition in San Francisco, and now most businesses support the policy), but even if it did, what matters more: a little profit, or not feeling like fucking shit for a week?
Because as the song below argues (accurately), shit can spread, especially in day cares, schools, office buildings with bad ventilation (I once saw an entire floor wiped out in a matter of hours), and of course restaurants. And while you watch, imagine a sick day care worker hacking on your kid, who’s gonna bring it home and give it to you. Imagine a waitress sneezing on that western omelet you just ordered, and then you eat it and get an intestinal virus: that’s a few days worth of burning Hershey squirts right there. Imagine that person in the cube next to you, the one who never washes his hands and keeps wiping his runny nose: if you touch ANYTHING he touches, like say a doorknob, you’re gonna be wiping your nose next. Think of the aches in your bones. Think of your nose rubbed raw, the headache, the fever, all because the poor motherfucker next to you HAD to come to work or he’d lose his job.
Pretty gross eh?
Oh, and Marc Stier gimme credit where credit’s due.
