"Everybody says 'thats no way to behave', but I just got paid and I'm kicking oh-uh-on..." (The Fauves)
Ah, the work Chrissy party, long may it reign.
Its always kooky seeing your work mates in a social context for the first time. You may think you're all pretty laid-back and jokey at work, but outside the "office" (or in the Pancake Parlour next door to the store, as the case may be!) is when you hear what everyone really thinks. There's always gossip about a work place romance or shag-a-thon - whether its one that happened, is rumoured to have happened, or should have happened - and there's bitchin about the boss nobody likes (even if he's sitting three tables away with the rest of management and is actually a nice guy, just misunderstood). You get to meet people's partners and if you're lucky, and the beer is flowing, your esteemed colleagues might start to entertain you...
I'm speaking as designated driver, here, which I was at the Borders Chrissy bash on Monday night. Because I was sick and because I had work at 8AM the next morning, mainly. It was probably a good thing. Anyway things didn't really start rockin until the after party. And before long I was drunk by proxy - you know that phenomenon when most people around you are so drunk that you loosen up too, and find yourself saying things you wouldn't normally say, spilling your lemon lime and bitters all over a colleague and dancing to hip hop - things you normally only do when under the influence? That was me.
It started when the pancakes were cleared away, and management and the married couples had gone home, and many arguments had been had about the best place to kick on: the rest of us piled into 3 or 4 cars - my ageing Laser included - and headed for the much-maligned Knox O-zone, despite a lot of whinging. For those of you who don't know Knox, there is a stigma from which it will never recover, despite a multi-million dollar extension, pubs, lounges, restaurants and a traffic-lighted street known mockingingly as "mini Chapel". I know this all too well, because its my local.
The place was jumpin for a Monday night - apparently its hospitality night, the "weekend" for those who work in the weekend industry. We started at the Irish pub, for free drinks (if you call the coin toss) and a good old-fashioned pub sing-a-long to such classics as Summer of '69, Blister in the Sun and You're The Voice. Then we made our way across to Lou Lous, a restaurant-come-nightclub, where we danced till dawn (or 2AM in my case) before reluctantly calling it a night.
The next day not much work was done, but a whole lot of re-living the night before was. After work I caught up with some gals from high school for our traditional Chrissy picnic. Five hours of non-stop nattering about the past, present and future, imaginary trips to Fiji and real ones to Italy and Norway, school, work, boyfriends and the ugly best friend phenomenon (every good-looking guy you meet has one) didn't do my fading voice any favours... but the Mars Bar cheesecake was excellent.
Its always kooky seeing your work mates in a social context for the first time. You may think you're all pretty laid-back and jokey at work, but outside the "office" (or in the Pancake Parlour next door to the store, as the case may be!) is when you hear what everyone really thinks. There's always gossip about a work place romance or shag-a-thon - whether its one that happened, is rumoured to have happened, or should have happened - and there's bitchin about the boss nobody likes (even if he's sitting three tables away with the rest of management and is actually a nice guy, just misunderstood). You get to meet people's partners and if you're lucky, and the beer is flowing, your esteemed colleagues might start to entertain you...
I'm speaking as designated driver, here, which I was at the Borders Chrissy bash on Monday night. Because I was sick and because I had work at 8AM the next morning, mainly. It was probably a good thing. Anyway things didn't really start rockin until the after party. And before long I was drunk by proxy - you know that phenomenon when most people around you are so drunk that you loosen up too, and find yourself saying things you wouldn't normally say, spilling your lemon lime and bitters all over a colleague and dancing to hip hop - things you normally only do when under the influence? That was me.
It started when the pancakes were cleared away, and management and the married couples had gone home, and many arguments had been had about the best place to kick on: the rest of us piled into 3 or 4 cars - my ageing Laser included - and headed for the much-maligned Knox O-zone, despite a lot of whinging. For those of you who don't know Knox, there is a stigma from which it will never recover, despite a multi-million dollar extension, pubs, lounges, restaurants and a traffic-lighted street known mockingingly as "mini Chapel". I know this all too well, because its my local.
The place was jumpin for a Monday night - apparently its hospitality night, the "weekend" for those who work in the weekend industry. We started at the Irish pub, for free drinks (if you call the coin toss) and a good old-fashioned pub sing-a-long to such classics as Summer of '69, Blister in the Sun and You're The Voice. Then we made our way across to Lou Lous, a restaurant-come-nightclub, where we danced till dawn (or 2AM in my case) before reluctantly calling it a night.
The next day not much work was done, but a whole lot of re-living the night before was. After work I caught up with some gals from high school for our traditional Chrissy picnic. Five hours of non-stop nattering about the past, present and future, imaginary trips to Fiji and real ones to Italy and Norway, school, work, boyfriends and the ugly best friend phenomenon (every good-looking guy you meet has one) didn't do my fading voice any favours... but the Mars Bar cheesecake was excellent.
posted by Calaloola at 11:57 am
2 Comments:
hi, calaloola! thanks for stopping by my site the other day. your note was really sweet. i hope you have the best time of your life at italy/norway. you sure deserve it.
i read through your post, and having picked out the song, "summer of '69," i smiled. a classic, indeed. brings back memories of how i used to play that song on my guitar (easy as rain with only four notes). i've quit playing but i'm still writing. it's funny how things turn out.
take care.
Hiya transience, thanks for stopping by :) I'm going to Norway on a summer school study abroad program, and hoping to do a side trip "somewhere European" while I'm there. I have a friend who is planning on getting some work in Italy about the same time, so we'll see what happens.
Indeed, there are a handful of pub rock songs which will never die. All the better when you can strum along to them :)
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