Okay, okay. This blog waswritten at 11 pm via my BAC Blackberry, on a train that’s twenty minutes late leaving South Station. I was too afraid I’d end up in Providence to close my eyes, so I sacrificed my thumbs to email myself this post and upload it later (yes, I know, a day late).
Today’s favorite thing about Christmas is office Holiday parties. I know a lot of people hate them, and don’t understand why they have to spend unpaid time outside of work with co workers. I admit to doing a fair amount of griping about them myself. In the end, you have to weigh the pros and cons. Free food and booze, along with the opportunity to watch your co workers embarrass themselves and ridicule them about it for months to come vs a few extra hours with people you spend 85 percent of your time with anyways. You do the math.
At TAC, we had parties with our spouses, who could share in our pain, er, joy. We had casual dinners with a cool kids table (you had to get there early to get a spot, and we somehow always ended up with a non cool kid as well), free martinis, and Pilgrims who J tried to talk into believing I was a witch. Perfectly normal, right?
Here at BAC, however, we have a holiday extravaganza, full of food, games, and people I don’t know. It was a secure affair, with lots of rules, but still fun. The downside was that I couldn’t find people I know, and, considering I don’t know many people, it was tough. There are a lot of people at BAC, and I would guess that most of them work where I do. The upside was there was open bar, and a ton of food, yet not a ton of places to eat. This left people to play the “balancing your drink while cutting roast beef and trying to not look like an ass” game. Good times.
So, there was no cool kids table this year, but there was a group of people who went out afterwards, and I was invited, so that must make us the cool kids, right? And, even though the party was a little less casual than TACs, it was still a good time. So, office holiday parties can stay on my list of my favorite things of Christmas. That is, until someone breaks out a picture of me dancing with a Santa hat on and a mini burger in each hand. Then they get booted of the list.