Quite a few years back, when I drove an oil tanker for the most well known oil producers on the planet, I worked with a guy who had a villa in San Pedro, near Marbella, Spain.
If the mood took him, he’d visit his G.P., do an academy award performance of pleading low back pain, (which I’ve heard is the most difficult to disprove), get a medical certificate for a week, hand it in at work, then drive to Gatwick and fly to Malaga.
After a week, I know this as I’d often go with him, he’d phone his G.P. from Spain, and plead for a further week certification, as he was still in pain.
His sister would pick up the certificate and take it to our depot.
This was eons before social media, but he’s not a social media type anyway, and he was too sharp to make the mistake of sending postcards home.
No one had to shoulder extra work while he was chugging San Miguels round his pool, oil got delivered still, in fact some guys got some welcome overtime.
Of course, a lot on here would view him as Public Enemy # 1, but that was life in the seventies.
I’m not saying that it’s right, it’s just the way it was.