Greetings, my fellow port swillers!
Whelp, tomorrow is the annual “holiday” party down the office and ol’ Robbo is dreading it.
Real Life Robbo dislikes parties in general, in part because I’m a quiet, keep to myself kind of fellah, and also in part because I have that hearing condition that makes it very hard for me to pick out what is being said by whomever I’m speaking with amid the general din of merry-making.
I dislike these parties in particular because most of my colleagues have, shall we say, somewhat wildly different outlooks on the world than your humble host, and are furthermore equipped with extremely sensitive outrage tripwires. This means that, unless I want to get myself in serious trouble through some casual non-PC remark, I’m reduced to the most banal of small-talk, something which bores me to tears.
Thus, when I can’t find an excuse for being out of the office altogether on the day of the party, I almost always confine myself to a quick ten minutes at it, making sure that the Important People see me. Then I slink back to my room, shut the door and try to stay as quiet as possible. If somebody discovers me skulking, I usually say that I’m waiting for a very important phone call and that I’ll try to come join them later.
Wish me luck, my friends.
UPDATE: Bueller?……Bueller?…….
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December 17, 2014 at 9:34 pm
quiltbabe
Although I have much the same issues as you, I manage the once a year we are forced to be jolly. I make sure I sit in a corner. There is actually someone more antisocial than even me (he brought a book on ancient Mesopotamia today, and was more content reading it at a table alone than making small talk with anyone) in the department, so at least I don’t stick out quite so much. Best of luck with your escape plan.
December 17, 2014 at 10:07 pm
captainned
There are certain joys to being a field worker. One of the top benefits is the ability to miss the all-office “holiday party”. Our little group has our own a week later and since not a one of us is PC (and no, we’re not Mac, either), it’s the rest of the office closing the conference room doors so as not to hear us blaspheme.
If we ever show up to any all-office function, it’s for the annual “Meet the Deputies” breakfast where we can raid the bacon and sausages. Once we’ve eaten our fill, we’re off like the Crimson Permanent Assurance. Thankfully, we’ve yet to find the edge.
December 18, 2014 at 5:22 am
Vicki
You can do it. You must do it. If I can brave Those Women of the Sacred PTO and go to the elementary school for Daughter’s Christmas program…
I just kept telling myself “One more year, one more year!” and then she’ll be in junior high wonderland.
December 18, 2014 at 8:43 am
Robbo
Crimson Permanent Assurance for the win! I haven’t seen a reference to that in years!
December 18, 2014 at 11:57 am
The Maximum Leader
Before you go in make sure to put the kettle on…
December 18, 2014 at 2:38 pm
captainned
Robbo, I knew you would grok the reference.