Merry Christmas and Happy Blue Year

If I could give one piece of advice to an employee, especially a new entry-level employee, it would be… do not over drink at office parties.

The first year our office holiday party was a fancy outing at the Ritz Carlton. The CEO of the company had hired a New Orleans Zydeco band complete with the instrumental washboard. There was a dance floor, appetizers passed around on trays with toothpicks and cocktail napkins galore, and of course, an open bar.

I had barely put in two weeks worth of work so I knew better than to drink too much. However, the editorial assistant named Olivia was not privy to this rule. She drank glass upon glass of wine.

The rest of us tried to do our due diligence to cut her off. I would hold her glass for her and then strategically place it on a buffet table. “Where did my drink go?” We told her we had no idea and maybe it’s time for some coffee.

Somehow Olivia made it back to the bar and on to the dance floor to join us. Mid-dance move she dropped her glass of red wine, which of course back splashed onto the khaki pants of one of the higher-up managers.

This was the more successful of the two holiday parties I attended. The second year I thought I could handle it all, especially when the head of the marketing department fell into the cheese platter (luckily most everyone had left).

The invitation told us that we’d be able to leave work early to attend the holiday party around 2:00 and appetizers would be served (not dinner which should have been the first hint to load up on breakfast or eat an early lunch). Again, open bar.

Not only were the group of well-bonded editorial assistants going to attend the holiday party, but it was also Ashley’s (beautiful Indian co-worker from last blog) birthday, so naturally we had to keep the party going with a bar crawl.

The holiday party went well and we all received our free booze and schmoozed with our co-workers. Then, off to the first bar of many, which at the end of the night would result in Ashley’s literal crawling up the steps inside her building to reach her apartment on the third floor.

There were probably four bars hopped to and the night may have involved some shots at one point. But we were young and thought we could handle it. However, we did not have the next day off from work.

Two of my co-workers woke me up the next morning (they slept over instead of making a the trek back home to the suburbs). I woke up feeling fine. We made it to work on time. I got an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich from Davio’s (usually when I’m hungover I do not like to eat anything).

The other distinct characteristic of my hangovers are that they get progressively worse as the day goes on. After breakfast, I didn’t feel so well, so I went to get a Gatorade. The convenient store only had Blue Frost Gatorade (I'm partial to lime or berry Rain).

I did not do any work. I sat in front of my computer screen with my elbows on the desk, propping my head up with my hands. Ashley had her stash of vitamin water on her desk too.

All of our older co-workers thought it was hilarious. Perhaps it spiked a bit of nostalgia for their drinking days. They jabbed jokes about being too hungover after the holiday party to us during our meetings. We declined to respond, knowing we deserved it.

At lunch, the administrative assistant who sits next to me told me her and the rest of the girls were going to go to Wendy’s to get some greasy food for lunch. I told her I wasn’t going to make it. The hangover had taken full control over me at this point.

I sat in my cubicle, trying to distract myself from feeling so crappy. Then, the nausea got to me. I was going to throw up. But the bathroom was a good walk down the hallway and if anyone saw me or happened to stop me in the hall to chat, it would be disastrous.

I debated for half a minute on whether I could make it. Physiologically I found my answer when the vomit rose up in my throat. I grabbed the trash bin in my cubicle and threw up. Some landed on my desk top, bright blue liquid vomit.

Thank gad everyone was out to lunch. I didn’t want anyone to know about the incident in fear of the repercussions, most likely to be written up or fired. But now I had a bucket full of puke in my cubicle.

I tied the trash bag in a knot and shoved the trash bin as far under the desktop as I could.

I asked one of my friends to come over to my cubicle. Do you smell anything horrible? She told me she didn’t (although I don’t know how) and I was relieved. I would keep this story a secret from her until days later.

At the end of the day I made sure to leave a little later than everyone else. I disposed of the trash bag in the ladies bathroom.

I got off pretty easy considering none of my bosses realized I acted so improperly. I also learned my lesson and in subsequent years remembered to both eat a hearty meal during the day and limit myself at the open bar.

So, again my advice... although the free booze may be wonderful, it is probably not worth your job.