Y'all Know What Time It Is

T’is the season. With the season comes any number of holiday “feasts” to share with those we work with. Potlucks and Secret Santas, and “parties” for our employee enjoyment. Not.

Potluck has seven letters but it is clearly a 4-letter word. It tends to be synonymous with “shit.” People you don’t know well cooking food in ways that you can’t confirm, with their pets as best friends on the counter, and setting it out for you to say “Oh, that looks really good, but I cut ___________ out of my diet recently. It gives me gas.” Suddenly you’re neither carnivore nor vegetarian and your diet only consists of fruit juice--of course there’s only soda--to protect you from the mysteries wrapped in tin foil. You suddenly remember all that work you left on your desk and say you'll take yours to go [straight to the trash furthest away from anyone who'll see it.]

Now that we’re waist deep in the recession, and many of us don’t know if we’ll be working tomorrow, something tells me that Secret Santas this year will be worse than ever. Before, people spent little money based on not really caring about the recipient. “I don’t even like him,” as you roll your eyes and head to the dollar section during one of your regularly scheduled Target runs. You hope he needs a Spongebob water bottle and proceed to buy the rest of your household items. No money + not caring=exponentially whack gifts. Too bad no one ever speaks up about how much they hate this tradition and work toward having it banned. If I wanted to give you a gift, AND could afford to do so, I certainly would. And I’d give it to you at your house, where I came for dinner because I trust and know your cooking.

In case you missed the festivities at the other 2 gatherings [‘cause you know we all gather to be embarrassed together for the cheap crap we purchased anonymously for Secret Santas] there’s always the Holiday party. Think of the one spot in your town or city that you can't stand the most and just show up there at 7 p.m. on the date printed on the last minute “flyer” the office assistant threw together in Microsoft Word just before the end of business, the day of. Make sure you eat first, and drink sufficiently if you have an affinity for the spirits, because the food will be bad and in low supply and open bar was from 6:57 to 6:59 p.m. All Coca Cola brand products will be free at the bar, and anything worth drinking to take the edge off of being 1 of 7 people (only 2 of whom you actually know and like) that bothered to show up to this pretend celebration of solidarity will cost an arm and a leg. Someone will get drunk and embarrass you for even witnessing them at their finest, someone will show how much they love dancing [no matter how unskilled], and someone (me) will spend the whole time watching their friend across the room for the signal that it’s time to move on to better scenes.

So, get your office-appropriate party gear ready. Use some of the $10 gift cards you got in appreciation for all you do to cover the cost of your Secret Santa offering, and if you KNOW you don’t cook, please stop at the prepared foods section of your local grocer. Just please don’t get the potato salad.

Watch me move.