Can't Be a Good Sign ...

...that it has taken me three days to recover enough to be able to write about my staff party.

First, let me say that this year I did NOT do the techno-colour yawn into my purse. This is one of a very few positive notes, so I put a little check mark here ...

Beyond that, well ... I'm going to try to do this some justice. There is a teeny voice inside me noggin that is saying ... uh, Dani ... do you REALLY want these lovely people to know any more about the dysfunction that is your place of employment than they do already? I mean, really - have I NO pride?

Apparently not - lucky for y'all.

First off, the shin-dig was held at a pretentious little pub in a teeny little off-shoot of our home town. It was nice enough, but not at all an appropriate venue for the class of people we seem to employ.

First was the meal ... lemme describe the meal here: These puppies were like 36 bucks a head, BTW. The salad was a small little pile of leaves with a blop of what appeared to be salsa on top and a vinaigrette dressing. (My husband's remark was that he felt like a brontosaurus eating it). The meal ... well, the chicken was a breast from what I can only assume was a Cornish hen. I mean ... we're talking Calista Flockhart here. There were 4 carrot spears, one broccoli spear and roughly 10 pieces of diced up potato. The food tasted good, though my hubs was less than impressed (I have him bloody spoiled with what I cook). Then dessert was good. I had the cheesecake and hubs had the pie. It was tasty, but far from enough to sop up the impending alcohol storm.

Then, there was the 'presentation'. There were two plaques given out for length of service awards. The first to an agent that has been kicking around Narci for 10 years off and on. The second ... and he presented it like this: "The 2nd award tonight for long standing service ... and I can't BELIEVE it ... is ... Danica! She has been with me for five (long) years. I told him I wanted him to install a counter where it said five years ... ya know, so I could count off my sentence. 'Oh Dani ... you are such a kidder'

Barf!! Oh - wait ... there's nothing in there to come up ... perhaps just ... BURP! I am so tarnished that I can't even enjoy this. I mean - REALLY? A plaque? REALLY? I'm ruined. I can't even feign graciousness anymore. I'm broken, damn it! He broke me! This hole of hell has finally done broke me.

Next, Narci moved on to 'the draw'. Narci loves him his draw. First let me fill in a few pertinent details. There are ten employees of our company - plus Narci. Add spouses and you get 22 - right? Wrong! Why, you may (or may not) ask?? Well, because Narci suffers from delusions of grandeur - that's why. Mrs. Narci aka, Barbie-Boop has a small business too and all of HER staff had to be there. We lease some of our office space, to a real estate firm. He invited the owner and a couple of his favs from the agents...  plus THEIR spouses ... also, there are a few other 'associates' (you can insert your own opinion here) and not only their spouses, but their adult children and THEIR spouses. There were like 40 people at this thing ... all of which, Narci footed not only the food bill, but an open bar. In the 'draw', your name goes into the hat so many times and there are also prizes - like cash or gas cards. ONE of his actual staff won a gas card ... ONE. Tell me that makes any sense to anyone else. 'Cause I am stumped. Is it really so important to him to appear generous to outsiders that he will sacrifice the people that actually contribute to the bottom line? Yeah - I guess it is - because THAT is precisely what happened.

This is the same man that sat in my office Friday night and lectured me about how we need to get our volumes up. That we've done so poorly this year. (BTW that is code for - this is YOUR fault, D) The same man that has reneged on my commission every year since he instituted it. Not to mention the very same man that sat in my office last night and whined about how much money the party cost him ... uh DUH - MORON!! Does it not seem blatantly obvious to everyone else why that might be?

Then ... THEN things got real interesting. See, Dirk brought himself a little tasty to the party. She's his flavor of the week ... that has lasted for a month or so. To call this woman a skanky whore, would be insulting to skanky whores everywhere. This STD infected piece of slimy ex porn star was oozing grossosity from every pore (not to mention orifice). By this point, it was drunk... and LOUD ... and horny ... apparently for our fearless leader. During a period of time that Barbie-Boop was on the dance floor, Skankala had her hand(s) jammed snugly between ol' Narci's legs ... um hum ... from behind ... and I am fairly certain it wasn't cause she was cold, either. Apparently, what she had to say was exponently worse. Oh my EYES!!! I guess she was over at the other table regaling the other ladies about ol' Dirk's shortcomings as a lover, too ... kept mentioning her little buddy, the bullet. I'm thinking that based on her apparent 'looseness' she may want to invest in something with a kick start. Ewwww.

All in all, I guess the most positive things I have to say are that I did not make any sort of arse outta myself ... 'course even if I had, it would have paled in comparison. I didn't vomit ... and truly, watching Skankala molesting my boss was a test of sheer iron gut.... and I was in bed by 1:20. Not really a sign of a fab party, but it's over for another year. Meh.