Creeping Crud

“How can I help you?” The male voice squeaked into my cell phone.

“Sounds like you have a cold.”

“Yes, it’s been hanging on for over a week.”

“Nasty stuff. Have you tired hot toddies?”

Laughter. “Without the rum?”

“During the work week of course…I want to get an upgrade on my cable that includes a sports package.”

That was it. One phone conversation with one individual—I’m downing Emergen-C every two hours and slathering Vick’s Rub over my chest like Sheldon on Amy Farrah Fowler.  Perhaps it was the Facebook chat with Rick also curled up in a ball with the creeping crud. More likely, I succumbed to the one-hundred fifty church goers of whom were starting, getting over, or ending a three week misery of a cold. Kudos to the other two hundred members who did not have colds but were most likely carriers of the disease.

This is my third cold of the season. The first came from a crowded American Airlines flight from London to Dallas. The plane packed with hackers and coughers who lacked one single Kleenex between them. Next, came after Thanksgiving, an illness gained from Monday sales meetings with contagious co-workers. And now…when I need my strength and focus for my job and personal goals, I am sick. Timing is everything.

I have been told that the cold is God’s way of saying. “Slow down.” I not sure if I buy into that. Does that mean shepherds don’t get colds? Toll bridge workers? Inspector 12 who checks the quality of my pillow? Conversely, wouldn’t the President be sick all the time? What about Olympic hopefuls? There is some pressure and stress right?

I am in sales. I need to talk by Monday. Anyone, please shoot me an email, comment or FB post of the best sure-fire cure for this crud.  Thank you!