by HECTOR MACKENZIE
THERE was a report on the radio the other day about a rise in both absenteeism and presenteeism in the workplace.
I listen to a lot of morning radio while driving to work and am prone to shameless channel hopping whenever Radio 4's Today programme gets bogged down in petty politics or John Humphrys gets too annoying.
This story sounded so daft I had to listen on...
Most of us are familiar with abstenteeism. Presenteeism (and isn't that an awful word?) is basically its opposite: the act of attending work while sick.
It was on the back of yet another of those grim surveys on the state of the economy and its impact on the workplace.
I was admiring Ben Wyvis on my way in to work at the time (fit and healthy though a tad distracted) but picked up the gist of it. People doing identical jobs can react in very different ways to the same sources of pressure. So for some, uncertainty over whether they'll have a job this time next year triggers feelings of stress and despair which in turn results in time off work.
For others, the looming spectre, real or imagined, of being given the boot or invited to consider an early retirement/redundancy package sparks a panic attack. Many of us are prone to delusional thinking when put in this situation. How could they possibly get by without me? If you are prone to presenteeism, you try to prove that the company of which you are part cannot possibly do without you. This may manifest itself in that individual being ever-present and contactable, regardless their state of health. Handy for the boss; not so great for the co-workers putting up with someone coughing and spluttering their way around the office like some modern-day martyr.
I couldn't say with any degree of confidence whether this form of presenteeism ever achieves its aim. Like it or not, we're all replaceable cogs.
Almost all of us. The truly remarkable Steve Jobs, the co-founder of Apple who died last week after a long illness, had already handed over the reins of one of the world's most admired companies to his successor before his untimely death.
The man with the unenviable task of following in those footsteps, Tim Cook, had several years back described groundbreaker Jobs, the man credited with bringing us the iPod, iPad and iPhone, as "irreplaceable". Now there was a guy who wouldn't let a cold keep him away from his work. His work ethic, long after his enormous fortune was made, is the stuff of legend.
I've had four iPods and three Apple laptops in my time. I struggle to afford the products now but that doesn't stop me lusting after them.
The solid first generation iPod I forked out for while working in China is still going strong after 10 years, thousands of miles and terrible treatment.
The 1,000 or so songs it includes from a decade or so of eclectic uploading form a treasured (if sometimes embarrassing) time capsule. To hit random play is to be taken on a magical musical tour down memory lane. It's like a brick compared to what's out there now but is still a thing of beauty. That emotional investment is echoed in millions of lives around the world.
Ironically, one of Jobs' favourite pieces of advice may offer solace to those in various sectors amongst them staff at the BBC, which is slashing its budget by 20 per cent now worrying about what their future holds.
Suffering from a rare form of pancreatic cancer that ultimately claimed his life, he observed, "Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose."
