Lying about absence is easier than telling the truth

Lucy Kellaway: This is a horrible story about lies, death, shirking work and angry old women. Its anti-hero is Stephen Ireland who fittingly plays football for the Republic of Ireland, but missed an important match a couple of weeks ago as his much-loved maternal grandmother had just died.

On reading about her own death in the papers, this old lady protested. Ireland then decided it was his paternal grandmother who had died. Alas, this old lady also found news of her death greatly exaggerated and she too told journalists that she was alive - though somewhat hurt. Now desperate, the footballer started digging a third bogus grave, this time for a step-grandmother. Finally, he gave up and said sorry: "I would like to apologise to my grandmothers. I have learnt a valuable lesson."

The lesson, surely, is that if one gets caught burying the living, one should stop digging at once. A more universal lesson was drawn by the fibbing footballer's boss at Manchester City, Sven-Goran Eriksson: "Whatever your problem, keep to the truth. Don't tell lies because that is stupid."

Sven's counsel might seem wise, but actually isn't. When it comes to explaining why one cannot work, it isn't always stupid to tell lies: it can make a lot of sense.

The problem with the truth is that it can be shameful, embarrassing, alarming, too personal - or too implausible. The office is a straight-laced place, and its conventions don't mesh well with the messiness and curiosities of real life. The real story behind Ireland's absence was that his girlfriend had had a miscarriage.

If true, this was a good reason for skipping the game, but one can understand if he didn't wish to discuss the status of his girlfriend's womb with Steve Staunton. Emotional and romantic things belong outside the office, though sometimes lay us so low they make us unfit for work. A friend who discovered her husband texting his mistress couldn't face the office for a day or two. Migraine was the handy, harmless lie that she chose.

The most common reason for lying about absence is probably alcohol. According to one survey, 10 million working days a year are lost to hangovers in the UK - which means close to 10 million lies.

If you are vomiting and groaning and your skull is banging, it makes no sense to go to work and every sense to lie and claim a stomach upset. Children also encourage lying. A survey published last week of 1,500 UK mothers showed more than half lie to their employer rather than say the nanny didn't show up.

No one wants to make it look as if their children make them less reliable workers.

Depression, anxiety and panic attacks are unmentionable in the office in spite of being almost as common as children. If you make them sound minor - "I can't come in as I'm a bit low" - you sound like a shirker. If you make them sound major, you seem like a nutter. "Dog ate my homework" reasons don't wash either, as they sound so unlikely. A short-sighted acquaintance once took a day off to grope around his flat looking for his glasses. He phoned in with the truth, but wasn't believed. A lie would have served him better.

So if hangovers, broken hearts, black moods, children and lost glasses don't work, what does? The odd thing is, the excuses we use are less solid than the real ones, but they work as they are mundane and raise no eyebrows.

In the survey, the women who refused to blame nannies for lateness blamed bad traffic and broken alarm clocks.

Both are lame: if the traffic is bad at rush hour, you should have left earlier. If the alarm didn't work, you probably forgot to set it. Minor illnesses are frequently invoked, and these are feeble. Working with a cold is possible, much easier than with a hangover. But colds are not self-inflicted and it is not embarrassing to have one. The best excuse is the one Stephen Ireland went for - the fake funeral. You don't have to feign illness, it doesn't reflect badly on you and everyone is sympathetic.

However, if you get found out, you look not only like a liar but a worthless worm. If you are superstitious, you may feel weird to be benefiting from the bogus death of a relative you would like to go on living.

There is a better way, thanks to the internet and BlackBerries. I am writing this column at home as I slept badly last night and am exhausted. Did I phone to say I couldn't come in ? No, instead my motto is never apologise, never explain. Just say you are working from home.

The only drawback is it doesn't work so well if you are a footballer.

- (Financial Times service)