Company Party

At the risk of being overly graphic and tasteless—actually, at the guarantee of being overly graphic and tasteless--have you ever gone to the bathroom, assessed your handiwork, and wondered "how the hell did that thing come out of me?" Today is the mother of that. Last night I ingested a potent, explosive cocktail of rich, greasy BBQ and multiple beers that led to record-breaking turds and gas. I’m stuck at work, walking the line between accomplishing tasks and not soiling my desk chair.

The BBQ was consumed at our company holiday party, held at the bowling alley down the street from my house. Few employees here frequent bowling alleys, but the black-lit lanes were fully stocked with bowlers I formerly identified as accountants, sales reps, and co-founders of the company. As Mr. Bir Toujour and I arrived, we were immediately accosted by our merry-making host, Mr. Co-Founder #1. He encouraged us to trade in our street shoes for snappy bowling shoes, visit the bar to get some grog in our veins, and take a spin on the "Dance Dance Revolution Extreme" interactive video game.
I had forgotten that most bowling alleys are now more or less disco-themed. There was a big video screen hovering over the lanes with footage of LaBelle and the Sugar Hill Gang as dance hits spewed from the sound system. I was game to bowl, but my bowling co-workers were by then very absorbed in the game and not ready to relinquish their spots. So Mr.. Bir Toujour and I went to the cocktail lounge, which, in company party terms, is like the place where the bad kids in high school go out and smoke.
Aforementioned BBQ was eaten, the company bar tab maximized. Mr. Bir Toujour left early and after many frivolous but enjoyable conversations with assorted co-workers, I stumbled home, marginally drunk, and collapsed in bed naked after taking a nice warm shower. I’m glad I work where I do and don’t dread social functions with the people I work with. Earlier this month, a company scheduled an after-hours factory tour as part of their holiday party. I volunteered to be the tour guide and made a whopping $20 or so in overtime when I should have asked the group to pay me about $150 cash.
It was painful, having to sit there while people from this boring tech company filtered in and pathetically tried to make small talk with each other. Instead of trying to be a neutral facilitator and stir things up, I hid. The one thing worse than being stuck at a lame holiday party is being stuck at another company’s lame holiday party.
Last year was my big time to make the work/celebration scene. I went to a co-worker’s party and drank a few too many glasses or a few too many types of alcohol. I recall seeing Mr. Co-Founder #2 arrive at the party in a tuxedo; he had just left an art museum’s gala and was making the rounds. He’s a good guy, and he came over and was asking me about my background in recipe testing (I was still very new to the company back then). He suggested I could possibly test chocolate recipes for them down the road.
"Yeah!" I must have bellowed. "That would be cool! Wow!" Later, on the way home, I puked out the window of my friend’s car while we barreled across the Bay Bridge. I’m still here, and I eventually did test recipes for the company. But throwing up sucks, if it’s a company function or not.