Monday, July 28, 2008

:: How to survive a social function with co-workers ::

So say someone you work with - one of your friends - has organized some kind of weekend pub crawl, and invited other co-workers, yourself included. And say you've decided to go - it'll be fun, you figure, as long as you don't embarrass yourself.

Because it's one thing to make an ass of yourself in front of your regular friends - they've seen you at your worst, and have forgiven you already - but it's another matter entirely when you are with work people. For starters, as close as you may be as friends, most of them still haven't seen you in certain situations. And secondly, if you act like a dick to your friends, at least you only see them 2-3 times a week, tops. Co-workers are there five days in a row. 40 hours a fucking week.

So I hereby present to you, a post work-function survival guide. Think of it as a morning-after pill of sorts. Sure you went out with well-intentioned plans to just have a few and behave yourself, but instead you did four jager bombs, made some decisions and got fucked. Keep in mind these are hypothetical situations, mostly, and while I have gotten myself into a few of these situations, I have never commented on a co-workers cleavage (see example below) because that would just be.... weird.

For starters, upon waking up the following morning, immediately locate your cell phone. Check text messages and call logs. Don't check necessarily for how many times you called your best friend, or your ex, between the hours of 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. - as we've already mentioned, those people understand you, and expect such behaviour.

What you want to check for are phone calls and text messages to the following people: your boss, your fellow co-workers at the bar, and your co-workers' significant others (forgetting for the moment, that you probably shouldn't have your office-mate Bill's wife in your Fave Five anyhow). If you have no messages from that evening's festivities, you are in the clear. However, there is an above-average chance you have messages that resemble the following:

"Heeeeey douchebag, I'm so glad I work with yous guys. You're GREAT!"

And they probably get more creepy and weird from there:

"Hey, remember that shirt you wore on Wednesday? The one that showed your cleavage? You should wear that one more often"

"When was the last time you actually got laid? You should go hit on my friend Teresa. Yeah, she's engaged, so what? Do it!"

If you have text messages - or, God forbid, voice mail - that resembles this in any way, delete immediately. Best to pretend it never happened, and hope to God that the other person is doing the very same thing.

Next, log onto Facebook. If it's 11:00 a.m. or later - and let's face it, it is - there is a high probability that photos from the evening in question are already posted. If they are, you have only one course of action: untag, untag, untag!

I cannot stress this enough. Chances are, if you act quick enough, the non-tagged photos will show up in very few people's newsfeeds, and though they'll still be online, fewer people will know they exist. (Sidenote: While you are sifting through incriminating pictures, be sure to click "save" on the one of you doing body shots off your secretary's rack...you know, for your personal collection. That one's a keeper).

Secondly, in an effort to stem the flow of news, perhaps change your facebook status to something false, yet less incriminating. Suggestions include "Joe enjoyed his night at the movies" or perhaps "Steve had a good time at his parents house last night for dinner"

Granted, these statuses work best if your name is Joe or Steve, but you get the idea. Also, while we're on the subject, resist the urge to go over the top with your new status. Bill is back from doing charity work at the orphanage, or Hector spent his Friday night bathing homeless people sounds impressive (and in the case of the latter, gross), but nobody's gonna buy it. Reasonable expectations, people - that's the key.

After you've done your best online work, the next step is to pick up your phone again, and send a text message (assuming you're not still drunk) to one of your co-workers who was at the party. Make it something lame, and generic, like "Great party last night, eh?" or perhaps, "How's your hangover?"

Hopefully, this effort will net you a reply from your colleague along the lines of, "Yep, great night. Wanna get some pancakes?" If this is the case, you are likely in the clear, as your friend is not horrified enough of your actions to avoid being seen in public with you. (Either that, or they really like pancakes).

Worst case scenario is the following responses:

"Fuck you, asshat."
"Oooh, man. You're alive?!"
"Where'd you end up last night? Last I saw, you left the club with that Mexican tranny."

These are all bad. But silence can also be just as damning - or not. On one hand, perhaps this person is so angry and/or repulsed by your actions that he or she wants nothing to do with you (til Monday, when they have no other choice). Or perhaps - and this works in your favour - they are more embarrassed of their own actions, and would prefer to hide out alone in their dark basements until they have to go back to work.

Either way, just make the call and hope for some delicious flapjacks.

And now, I present to you your last option. Your Saving Grace:

Just move away.

Yeah, I know you've got a brand new condo in a nice neighbourhood, and you just took out a lease on that new Kia Hybrid, but fuck it. Sell everything. Get out of town. No goodbyes. No two-weeks notice. Just fucking go.

Fast.

Because no matter how well you follow my many suggestions above, sometimes there's very little that you can do to save yourself after you've had your tongue down the throat of that married woman in accounts receivable, got in a fist fight with Paul from the mail room, and puked in your boss's wife's purse.

Don't worry though. I hear Budapest is nice this time of year.

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