So it’s that time of year again. No I don’t mean Christmas. I mean the office Christmas party. The one where you invariably embarrass yourself to the point of redundancy.
I promised myself I wouldn’t get drunk. I even wore shoes that I cannot walk in sober, as a reminder to keep the booze to a minimum. Needless to say this did not help (and one of the said shoes is now missing in action). I miss that shoe. But I digress.
Picture the scene. Sophisticated city centre restaurant, sparkling lights, party dresses and smart suits. And 47 employees intent on getting utterly wasted on free alcohol. What can I say? I’m easily led.
It was one of those evenings when I actually left the house feeling half human. By some miracle of Christmas, my hair was tolerable, my frock fitted (just), and my make up was reasonably applied. Then I looked in the mirror at 10pm and my face looked like it had been badly constructed out of melting Play dough. I actually found a false eyelash on my cheek at one point. And I wasn’t wearing any.
So what did I do wrong? Would you like a list? I’m rather fond of lists, they remind me of food shopping.
- I sat next to my boss. And I talked to my boss. I talked to my boss WAY too much.
- I told my boss (in utter confidence of course) that I wasn’t keen on the new Marketing guy. The new Marketing guy was sat next to us. I assume he has ears. I think it is safe to say that the new Marketing guy now does not like me. Fair play.
- While I was on a roll, I told my boss that most of the staff don’t seem to like him, and that he should be “friendlier” at work. Argh! They should abolish the lie detector and just get people massively tipsy. Much cheaper.
- As if to compensate, I told my boss that of course I liked him. In fact I loved him. I was going for sycophantic employee. The look on his face screamed “restraining order”.
- I stroked my boss’s arm (I am cringing as I’m typing now). Did I mention that I’m the type of drunk that hugs people a lot and tells everyone they love them? No? Maybe someone needs to tell that to my boss.
- When my clearly uncomfortable boss moved his chair away from me, and enquired about Richard, I told him that Richard was without question the love of my life. Whilst crying.
- I then ignored everyone around my table for the rest of the evening and texted Richard. Many, many, many, times.
- I then called Richard. He didn’t pick up, although according to my call log, I was persistent.
- Then I called Richard’s best friend. Who now presumably thinks I’m mental.
- Eventually I got poured into a taxi home, by the new Marketing guy. Minus my shoe.
Simply bloody marvellous.
I have just been re reading the texts I sent to Richard. With one eye closed. If I can get up the courage, I will blog the texts at some point. Needless to say it is very clear to Richard, and his best friend, that I am not over my Ex. And now my boss thinks I am in love with him. The HR department will be having kittens.
I cannot go into work on Monday. I need to get flu. Fast.
Big Love Evie XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx