Feeling a little under the weather? What would mom do?

My mom gave me some very pointed hygiene advice when I was a child: Wash your hands before you eat, use a tissue when you blow your nose, and cough into either your hand or your sleeve (although I must admit, I never understood the cough-into-your-sleeve thing, since you can immediately wash your hand, but not your sleeve).

Very apropos advice some 30 years later, for both schoolchildren and corporate worker bees. I got to thinking about my mom's advice when I began to notice an interesting workplace phenomenon: people coming to work sick.

Work is a place where we gather to be productive at our respective crafts, whether it's crunching numbers, writing copy, or developing code. However, sick people in the office put quite the crimp in productivity.

Initially, I am sympathetic to the person. I've been sick before and it's not fun. After a while, the Felix Unger wannabes start to grate on the cube collective. E-mails and instant messages start flying back and forth: ``Can you believe Bob? Why doesn't he go home? Is he trying to get us all sick?"

The incessant hacking/coughing/wheezing/sneezing is no different from a construction worker's jack hammering; after a while, it becomes tiresome and annoying.

Noise aside, there is an even larger issue: The person is sick, working in an enclosed area where the air is recirculated. This person is spewing noxious secretions into the air, which at some point, I am pretty sure, land on our keyboards, clothing, and food.

We each, however, have our own I'm-not-getting-whatever-it-is-you-have rituals. One co-worker of mine has a stash of Purell at her desk. Another takes daily doses of vitamins C and D; if more than one person in the office is sick, she doubles her doses. Another person drinks some sort of shake that just can't be described in a family newspaper. A few others have towelettes to wipe down their desks, monitors, phones, and chair arms. The fortunate few who have offices just close their doors.

I was once on a project that had a very tight deadline. A number of us were burning the midnight oil when one of our teammates became ill. At first, it was just a sniffle. That turned into an occasional cough. Then it became a full-blown cold, which two days later turned into the flu -- chills, temperature, and all those other symptoms polite people don't discuss. We gently told her to go home, it was OK, and we would pick up the slack.

She refused. (``No, I'm OK, I'm not that sick.") On one hand, we appreciated her spirit and spunk. On the other , we were ill at ease with her infecting our air space. The boss finally stepped in, saved us (and her), and sent her home.

Another germ-phobic cube mate of mine, who could give television detective Adrian Monk a run for his money, doesn't touch anything he doesn't have to. I've seen him use his elbows to turn on the faucet, open doors with his feet (really!), and press the handicap `open the door' button with his back -- all in the name of staying healthy. He always has a pen handy so he doesn't have to use anyone else's. His strategy seems to be working, because I can't recall the last time he took a sick day.

As a public service, I've developed an illness scale. If you are under the weather and wondering if you should go to work at all or come home sick from work, ask yourself these five simple questions:

1. Have you used more than five tissues in the past 10 minutes?

2. Have you visited the restroom more than five times in the past hour?

3. If you had dinner plans, would you keep them?

4. If your cube mate had your symptoms, would you want him or her coming to the office?

5. If your child were this sick, would you send him or her to school?

If you are still on the fence and unsure what to do, ask yourself this: What would mom say?