Work Party
Here are some things that happened last night at a party with my coworkers. I’m writing the things because they are pretty funny and entertaining to me and I want to remember that they happened. I’m not going to organize these thoughts well, because they are not organized well in my head. If any of my coworkers read this, I’m exaggerating some things for effect. If people who are not my coworkers read this, I am exaggerating nothing.
My shy, 40-something boss, who plays keyboards in a country-western/rock cover band, and I walked into a liquor store to buy beer. We walked down an aisle of 22 oz. craft beers and he was surprised that they existed. I told him that it’s common and it’s something like the equivalent of wine and that drinking that stuff is actually a good experience. He bought MGD and I felt like an asshole for having said anything at all about something he had no interest in. He said he sees a lot of people drinking PBR nowadays. My brain mandated that I try to explain why. During my unnecessarily long-winded explanation, the most important words I used were “young people” and “ironically.” I also talked about advertising and, for the second time within five minutes, I felt like an asshole.
When we arrived at my coworker’s apartment, I shed my coat, gloves, hat, and backpack and put them on the floor, paying no attention to where or why. He respectfully asked to take my coat. When I am confronted with etiquette and calculated kindness, I get defensive. I subconsciously conjure up a video montage of vague memories from the past, which include being uncomfortable in the following venues: wake, funeral, wedding, country club, job interview, school photo shoot, and mass. He asked us to take off our shoes. I did so. I went to the bathroom and looked in all his cabinets within arm’s length while peeing. Immaculate toiletries. Arranged with a degree of intentional precision rivaling that of an ice sculptor. When I came out of the bathroom, my backpack had been moved to a designated baggage area in another room. The dude whose apartment I was assaulting offered me some bourbon that his ex-girlfriend bought for him. I had recently spoken with him about this ex-girlfriend as he struggled with their break up. It was difficult for me to not advise him to simply shout at the girl and move on. Anyways, she gave the bourbon to him in a special-made glass container with his initials carved into it, and he explained this with sarcasm because he didn’t want me to think that he gave a shit about that sort of thing. I made fun of him by announcing that he had towels in the bathroom with his initials and face sewn into them. In a swift attempt at catharsis, he poured all the bourbon into a warm spiced alcoholic drink he was making for his guests, shamelessly multiplying the alcoholic content of the community drink. I drank it and it was alright.
Most of the dudes I work with are not sociable and, like me, are scared of women, but their fear manifests as silence, whereas mine often manifests as being loud and clownish to gain continual temporary approval. The dude who was hosting the party brought a new girl he was interested in. I was thinking about asking him questions like “have you fucked her?” or “are you going to fuck her?” or “when are you going to fuck her?” but I decided that it would be rude. I also decided I would try to be the appropriate wing man or whatever it’s called and avoid talking to her, and also be rude to her if she said anything to me, the goal of which was to make her think that I am a piece of shit and that the host of the party, who would likely be the other socially active male, was a much superior catch. I don’t know anything about dating.
The group of roughly 12 people played a game where one person asks a question, everyone writes their answer, and then each person takes turns trying to guess whose answer was whose. Games like this make me nervous because I never want to participate but I am peer pressured into doing it anyway and then I want so badly to be in control of every detail. My behavioral solution, as is typical with these types of get-to-know-the-people-you-are-stuck-with games, is to painstakingly try to confound every possible variable of the rules and cause every participant to get confused, because I think it’s funny. The best part about it is that it frees most people from taking the game too seriously, but those who do not wish to relinquish control end up hating my behavior with fire-like animosity, especially because I am laughing. I lost every round of the game.
