Department Holiday Party
Every year, it's the same question. What to do for our department Holiday party? We can't do anything after work because the people with kidlets want to go home to them. We can't go out in the afternoon anywhere far from the office because the people who live way in the other direction complain about their long drive home. Then, there's all the ideas that cost a ton of money that we don't have in the budget. And, the ideas that appeal to one or two people but everyone else hates.
So, it ends up with my boss and Sugar Daddy deciding what to do. My boss is the planner of that duo so she ends up with all of the leg work, and the busy work. Poor thing.
This year, her first idea was to go horse back riding. Uhm, no thank you. Horses are dangerous, they bite and knock you down and step on you or kick you. You're not getting me near one of those mean creatures. I know what you're thinking, I'm a girl and all girls love horses. Not this one. I'm probably the only girl in America who didn't want a pony for Christmas. I'm not sure where the near phobic reaction comes from. I've never been bitten, knocked over, stepped on or kicked by a horse. Unless....I did and have blacked it out due to the trauma.
Anyway, that idea got morphed into a cowboy afternoon of a group hay ride then a cowboy cookout. Sounded good in theory. In practice, however....
First, the hay ride. We all loaded up into a wagon to take a tour through South Mountain park. I think we were on paved roads about 97% of the time. Might as well have been in a car. I did get to see some quails but that was about all of the fauna around. It was a nice afternoon, though, so we enjoyed being out in the sun.
They pulled us into the cookout area about 45 minutes later. There were two women setting things up and a campfire going but no grilling of the meats was happening. My boss asked when lunch was going to be ready since she expected it would be waiting for us. The reply she got from the woman I will call Miss Snippy was, "I'm not allowed to start grilling until you get here so it will be a little while." I wish I could illustrate the tone of voice. Let's just say it wasn't friendly.
While we waited for lunch to be cooked, we started getting our caricatures drawn. My boss had arranged for a guy to come out and draw us all. They're planning on doing something with the pictures. I suggested it should be a game called "Guess who this is supposed to be." The problem with caricatures, from my experience, is that the artist focuses on one feature and then uses generic material for the rest of the face. Sometimes it works, sometimes you're not exactly sure who the picture is of. Sugar Daddy's drawing looked like Boss Hog. Mine looked like Loretta Switt from her MASH days. The other girls all sort of looked alike. I'd say out of the 20 he drew, five of them were keepers.
Meanwhile, on the grill were some nice size steaks. I debated asking them to undercook mine but I didn't want to be a pest about it. (The best steak is seared on both sides and cold in the middle - I am a proud carnivore.) Sugar Daddy told me to go over and ask. So, I went up to Miss Snippy and asked if they could take one steak off early. Her reply was, "No, we can't do that." I said, "I'm not afraid of ecoli." to which she replied, "I'm not a restaurant." Again, with the tone. This woman will never win an employee of the month award, I guarantee it.
Chastised, I slunk back to the group. Sugar Daddy asked if they would do it and, when I told him no, said, "For $45 a head, they better fracking cook your steak the way you want it." Only, he didn't say fracking. I shushed him, now convinced that she was going to spit on all of our food thanks to his comment.
Steaks and chicken were announced to be ready. I got mine and it was, well, definitely carbon based. There was carcinogenic material covering the entire piece of meat with absolutely no rareness whatsoever. It was so hard to cut (they only supplied plastic utensils) that I didn't realize I'd also cut through my plate a few times which led to some nice steak sauce stains on my jeans. See, we were sitting on hay bales with our plates on our laps. The chicken was no better than the steak except, since it was a little thicker, you could cut through the carbon layer and actually get to some meat.
A couple of people had hit the Circle-K for some adult beverages. Man, I really wanted one..or three but I had to go back to work so it was lemonade for me. Too bad, because some beer might have made that steak a little more palatable.
I felt sorry for my boss since she put a lot of effort into the day and it didn't meet with expectations. The plus side is we got to spend an afternoon out of the office and socialize with each other so it wasn't a totally bad day.
So, it ends up with my boss and Sugar Daddy deciding what to do. My boss is the planner of that duo so she ends up with all of the leg work, and the busy work. Poor thing.
This year, her first idea was to go horse back riding. Uhm, no thank you. Horses are dangerous, they bite and knock you down and step on you or kick you. You're not getting me near one of those mean creatures. I know what you're thinking, I'm a girl and all girls love horses. Not this one. I'm probably the only girl in America who didn't want a pony for Christmas. I'm not sure where the near phobic reaction comes from. I've never been bitten, knocked over, stepped on or kicked by a horse. Unless....I did and have blacked it out due to the trauma.
Anyway, that idea got morphed into a cowboy afternoon of a group hay ride then a cowboy cookout. Sounded good in theory. In practice, however....
First, the hay ride. We all loaded up into a wagon to take a tour through South Mountain park. I think we were on paved roads about 97% of the time. Might as well have been in a car. I did get to see some quails but that was about all of the fauna around. It was a nice afternoon, though, so we enjoyed being out in the sun.
They pulled us into the cookout area about 45 minutes later. There were two women setting things up and a campfire going but no grilling of the meats was happening. My boss asked when lunch was going to be ready since she expected it would be waiting for us. The reply she got from the woman I will call Miss Snippy was, "I'm not allowed to start grilling until you get here so it will be a little while." I wish I could illustrate the tone of voice. Let's just say it wasn't friendly.
While we waited for lunch to be cooked, we started getting our caricatures drawn. My boss had arranged for a guy to come out and draw us all. They're planning on doing something with the pictures. I suggested it should be a game called "Guess who this is supposed to be." The problem with caricatures, from my experience, is that the artist focuses on one feature and then uses generic material for the rest of the face. Sometimes it works, sometimes you're not exactly sure who the picture is of. Sugar Daddy's drawing looked like Boss Hog. Mine looked like Loretta Switt from her MASH days. The other girls all sort of looked alike. I'd say out of the 20 he drew, five of them were keepers.
Meanwhile, on the grill were some nice size steaks. I debated asking them to undercook mine but I didn't want to be a pest about it. (The best steak is seared on both sides and cold in the middle - I am a proud carnivore.) Sugar Daddy told me to go over and ask. So, I went up to Miss Snippy and asked if they could take one steak off early. Her reply was, "No, we can't do that." I said, "I'm not afraid of ecoli." to which she replied, "I'm not a restaurant." Again, with the tone. This woman will never win an employee of the month award, I guarantee it.
Chastised, I slunk back to the group. Sugar Daddy asked if they would do it and, when I told him no, said, "For $45 a head, they better fracking cook your steak the way you want it." Only, he didn't say fracking. I shushed him, now convinced that she was going to spit on all of our food thanks to his comment.
Steaks and chicken were announced to be ready. I got mine and it was, well, definitely carbon based. There was carcinogenic material covering the entire piece of meat with absolutely no rareness whatsoever. It was so hard to cut (they only supplied plastic utensils) that I didn't realize I'd also cut through my plate a few times which led to some nice steak sauce stains on my jeans. See, we were sitting on hay bales with our plates on our laps. The chicken was no better than the steak except, since it was a little thicker, you could cut through the carbon layer and actually get to some meat.
A couple of people had hit the Circle-K for some adult beverages. Man, I really wanted one..or three but I had to go back to work so it was lemonade for me. Too bad, because some beer might have made that steak a little more palatable.
I felt sorry for my boss since she put a lot of effort into the day and it didn't meet with expectations. The plus side is we got to spend an afternoon out of the office and socialize with each other so it wasn't a totally bad day.
