Tuesday, December 13, 2005

work, etc.

This coming Thursday is The Law Firm, LLC's annual holiday party. I'm so torn - I went last year and the food, drinks, and decorations were amazing, but I was still obligated to talk to coworkers about non-work issues. I've come to the realization that I'm not so fond of my coworkers knowing anything about me. Actually, I'm weirdly secretive. I'm not in the firm's phone book of home numbers (somehow that's a deal here) and I avoid social situations with my colleagues like I would avoid ebola. It's not like I hate my coworkers, it's just that I have no idea what to say to them. I can shoot the breeze with a 45-year-old dyke with the greatest of ease, but what do I say to a 45-year-old straight woman who's wearing a sweater with reindeer, jingle bells and Santa exploding on it? I just look at them and think, I will never be you. Who are you anyway?

That said, I do like the food and drink and decorations. It is so wrong to silently drink the free wine and eat some shrimp in the corner table by myself? If anything, it'll just serve to bolster my rep here. And that's clearly something that needs bolstering.


R. Arlington, Jr. said...

Darling, go to the fucking party, already. You just need to act the part of sycophantic shrimp-sucker. That is, while you're guzzling the mulled wine (oops, sorry, I think that's a crazy Brit thing -- we had this big vat of mulled wine with fruit and shit in it at the English Department Christmas Party -- it's how the British do "ghetto", I think) knocking back the Shiraz and eating cheese like it's going outta style, mock everyone in a subtle ironic tone so opaque that no one will realize they're being made the brunt of your quips. Example: at last year's horrendous school fete I became unwillingly engaged in conversation with the head of guidance, an old woman with a pot belly who was wearing -- I kid you not -- a knit sweater with a laughing clown on the front and some dancing zebras on the back. The moment I saw her, I was so aghast, but being in false fawning mode, I exclaimed, "Rona! I simply adore your sweater! Wherever did you find it?! It's just so -- so, 'festive'! You always are so well put-together, really, you are." And the old bat had no idea. Meanwhile, whenever I was accosted by the principal, it was more of the same: "Aren't these shrimp amazing? WHERE do you think they get these shrimp from? And the crab puffs! -- Don't even get me started on the crab puffs!"

Elizabeth said...

And for that... M. R. Arlington, Jr. I adore you. Mulled wine is disgusting, although I've heard good things about it. Maybe it was just the mulled wine I had before.

Thinking of booze, you know shiraz and cheese have always been two good friends of mine. BFF even. Hey, I won't be alone then! I can totally mingle if I have two pals about! Together, we'll mock the passive-agressive former kindergarten teacher turned paralegal with the barely concealed rage issues and kick it with my ultra nerdy financial analyst friends!

I'm ready. Bring on the shiraz and good cheer, bitches.