Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

In the next day or two, ol’ Robbo faces ye annual doome that is ycomme true known as teh Office “Holiday” Party.

Back when I was in private practice, these functions were, if not innocuous, at least fairly manageable.  One simply avoided saying anything obviously obnoxious to one of the partners, as well as having anything to do with the drunk paralegal looking for a fellah to take her home.  Aside from that, the spread usually was pretty lavish and a good time was had by all.

Well, I’ve spent nearly a decade now working for Uncle and I’m here to tell you that the atmosphere at his parties is completely different.  The best way I can describe it is to suggest the resemblance to being asked to tango across a minefield.

In my earlier years, I used to go to these parties and put on my best face.  Recently though, perhaps because I’m older and don’t give much of a damme anymore, perhaps because teh climate has become more, well, mine-strewn, I’ve taken to simply ducking them.  When asked if I plan to attend, I usually respond, “Oh, I hope so, but I’m waiting on this call from Mr. Art Vandelay that I simply must take.  See you there, hopefully!”

Getting close to 50 has its advantages.  As does the reputation for being that guy who’s quiet….keeps to himself…..