T'is the... no, too cliché

While work is rolling along fairly nicely, the ten of us in the group decided with the boss to take a half day off Friday afternoon at the company's expense. Have a nice lunch, unwind, maybe get a White Elephant gift exchange going... Done deal. This might seem pretty anarchistic and edgy at first glance.

"Yeah man! Get paid to slack off at some restaurant, dude! Oh wait! BAR HOP! YEAH MAN!" (pause for Pantera goodness... Hole In The Sky ... Okay, good)

Alas, this is a company-endorsed once-a-year thing that each manager can do for their team. Hasta-la-bye-bye anarchy. Fare thee well, edginess. We the team just decide when during the year to do it, and go.

I'm sure you're just as shocked as I to find out that most teams take some Friday in December to do this, aren't you? Yeah. Hey listen, if I missed your call... I really don't care, okay? I hope you left a message.

We also decided that, in the spirit of being a team, we'd get all chummy & take the light-rail together to the destination. So the four of us get on the train (remember that "ten of us in the team" bullshit earlier? yeah... anyway) and get a kick out of mocking the others on board. Mostly just the driver's voice, really. If you've ever seen Monsters Inc. and recall the guy that voiced Roz, a.k.a. Number One, you might be interested to know that person is the driver of the F Line from the Lincoln station up to 16th & California here in Denver. Combine that with a Napoleon Dynamite-esque 25 second siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggggggghhhh before saying, "Please keep clear of the doors as they close" and you have a great idea of what we were listening to at every. Damn. Stop.

Yes, they do have an automated voice with some nice lady that tells you what stop is coming next, but I guess this driver just HAS to make use of his talent and accompanying captive audience. I offered up a little prayer: "God, please speed us to the end of the line... I don't care if the brakes go out, just please make his narration STOP! My sides are killin me here from laughing so much, and the other riders are looking at me funny. Yes, that includes my coworkers."

So, meeting the other six people at the destination, much conversation ensues about entertainment (being Hard Rock Café, that's just going to happen). Well, at some point, boss lady mentions The Partridge Family's Danny Bonaduce & his reality show from a year or two ago. One coworker chimes in, "Oh yeah. He was a mobster, wasn't he?"

blink... stare ...blink

You hear the pin drop, followed by laughter. I dunno, did the Partridge Family ink a record deal by other than talent? It kinda makes sense. Unless (or even if) you subscribed to the "Ah, that creepy Reuben was getting some action on the side" theory.

I ordered the HRC cheeseburger. Heather was our waitress. Go there. Ask for her. Treat her well, and she'll take care of you. She kicks ass. Tip her poorly, and I'll kick yours. M'kay? So Heather asks how I want it cooked, and I reply, "I'd like to hear it MOOO when you bring it out, but whatever the legal minimum time that you're required to cook it will be fine."

Did I mention I'd taken the seat next to the group's vegetarian? She was displeased with me for that. Understand that when I say she was displeased, I don't mean she glared at me, or spun off on some vegan rant, or teared up at the thought of the cow remnant that was soon to be devoured in front of her. No, instead she took the high road and slugged my arm. Hard.

I ordered a Guinness to go with that slab o' meat. Sitting on the other side of me was our resident Muslim follower, and he slugged my other arm.

Yeah, I really like my team. We can vent as needed and not get all those fucked up "hurt feelings", and visits from HR followed by "sensitivity training".

Eating with two bruised arms was an interesting ordeal though. Still, it was a good burger. I'm even here to tell the tale as, opposed to driving the porcelain bus courtesy our good friend Mr. Coli, E. Yay for the home team.

I did my Capitalist bit by buying a damned t-shirt. That makes two HRC shirts that I own now. Pathetic, ain't it? On the up-side I have a dozen not-extravagant wine glasses that fucking MATCH from the White Elephant exchange, so I'm happy. (See Heather? I didn't say anything about those shot glasses you let the coworker slip into her bag o' goodies! ... uh, that is... ~nevermind~)

After the gift exchange and "See ya later"s outside on the 16th Street Mall, three of us meander back to the train (notice how we lost one of our initial four?) and head back down to get our cars at work. The day ends well.

---

Bruce Cockburn, Mary Had a Baby