plotting a karaoke ambush

In my position at this institution, I have been in the position to plan many a going-away "parties." That is put in quotes because sometimes it is a party, sometimes a funeral, sometimes just a going through the motions, and sometimes, like with good-old Battleaxe, it was a chance to kick 'em while they're down/dance on grave. Next up is Marie's farewell: Beer and oysters on the beach. I applaud her simple vision, but can't help but think of the irony that she wants to feed a bunch of people oysters after an oil spill. Neither of the above items really appeals to me, yet I have to plan. It's proving to be a bit sticky, but I will contrive.

But it begs the question: Who will plan my party? Marie will be gone. Earnesto doesn't do details. That is the extent of my lauded department. Conclusion, I will plan my party.

This simultaneously sucks and has it's benefits. Foremost amongst the benefits is that I will allow myself to do whatever is in my imagination. I was talking to the head of HR about it, and she said it sounded pretty awesome. Complete Carte Blanche.

So when I come up with a devilishly good idea(with my creative engines) (and I have) like making it a karaoke party, and asking Earnesto to sing a song for my final request, I will not shoot my idea down. I will say instead, "Self, that sounds like a capital idea, and well within the budget I have established for this party." And Then I will say "Self, thanks for understanding what I am trying to envision." Fabulous. Finally, I get to plot my karaoke ambush.

As for songs that I will ask for Earnesto to sing, I will take written submissions. Although I would love to have it be something like "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Or something by Debbie Harry or Madonna. Or Barry Manilow. There are just so many ways to be cruel on this one.

What is it about the Accounting Department that makes them want to drink?

Maybe it's the fact that they deal with the dirty cold facts that underlie this place, that we are poor, and will perpetually be poor. Maybe it's the way they all secretly seem to hate each other. Maybe they are all so overworked that they have no friends to go out with in real life. But our accountants here tend to be BIG fans of the happy hour, and beyond. And Monday night, we went out to celebrate 10 years of service from our resident groupie, Susie.

Susie is crazy. She is the type of obsessive energy type person I talked about earlier in the Harry Potter post, except for minus the anime. Instead, add in Buffy, anything Sci-Fi and Fantasy, and soooo much more. She gets 6 weeks of vacation for her time served, and I think that almost every second of it is spent at some convention. Unfortunately, she missed Comi-Con this year, and will also take a miss on Dragon Con as well. But she has at least three more planned for the year. But what really makes her crazy is the fact she has been here for 10 years.

Never mind the fact that we have treated her horribly as an institution, and shuffled her around like some sort of rummy cube tile. She's here for the vacation.

Monday we went to a bar that has table that they must have pillaged from a massive garage sale of round end tables. They are all about the size of a postage stamp. Not designed for group visits. It is also dark and noisy, but plays sports of three tvs, which redeems is slightly. Since I don't drink, I often get bored and watch the tvs, since they are slightly less embarrassing than watching coworkers work on drinking themselves into the ground.

Since Accounting/ Finance is one of the largest admin. departments, I thought for sure there would be more people showing up. Battleaxe's low turnout numbers from that department would have been due to the fact she was an absolute witch (although she did once buy me a scone). I mean, 10 years is something.

Something to ignore, apparently. From what I hear, a total of 8 people showed, including myself and Susie. Henry was there, and it was clear he still had a thing for my coworker, so maybe it is not so tragic that he is leaving. It was a modified open tab, where you had a settling up at the start of each round. Pre-pay tab. I left early, so I can't comment on the success of this strategy, but I don't think that we ended up $120 in the hole.

So where were the absentee accountants? One had a legit excuse: planning for a wedding. He would have never heard the end of it if he had not reported for duty. The rest? MIA. Can't they even come and fake it through a single round? Friends don't let friends celebrate in a dismally attended affair.

call it a day: why you leave the bar early

For Drinkers and Nondrinkers alike

Are you ready for part II of the Battleaxe farewell tour? No? Because last night was the external party, when every one who has ever worked for her (and it's a lot, can someone say high turn-over?) showed up to drink to her downfall and murmur to each other how well deserved it was. I was went part out of pity and part as an envoy from the Executive Offices. Which is to say, Earnesto couldn't go, so he sent me. Unfortunately, he wasn't bankrolling the venture.

I don't drink. So happy hour isn't my favorite hangout. I just feel redundant as I sip my coke with grenadine and wish I was somewhere else. For example, last night, in the super-posh Fairmont Hotel Tonga Room, I wished I was at home watching the NBA Draft.

(Sidebar: Draft! I love it, except I really wanted San Antonio to take Jarod Dudley from Boston College, but stupid Michael Jordan picked him. Still, some good trading going on, and as a Portland native, I appreciate efforts to retool the team to bring in some quality. End of Aside)

No, I was in a dark and murky bar that I had heard good things about. I guess it shows that everyone who goes there usually is drunk, because sobriety does not make it a fun place. It makes it dark and kitschy and in this case, full of people I didn't really like before, and drunkenness did not add to their charm. Like a guy who used to have my position and filled the computer with porn and demeaning emails about his then girlfriend, one of my coworkers, that I was forced to clean out. Ohhhh, he's a favorite. Favorite person to build a voodoo doll of, that is.

After drinking my coke, and eating some pretty decent Swiss cheese, it was an hour in and it was getting crowded. I opted out, leaving $25 to cover my tab and get one of Battleaxe's. It was a gesture. I left at 6:30, and after a nice walk and train ride, got home in order to catch the end of the first round of the draft. and I only saw one or two of my coworkers fall-down drunk (fast workers).

I just talked to someone there at the end of the night, and it was a great reminder of the evils of an open tab. Apparently they were $120 short at the end of the night. Not my fault. But it sure made me glad I wasn't there at the end to pick up that tab. A good reason to leave early. Which makes the list this:

1. Even if you like a person sober, drunk may be a different story. Avoid being there when the things get so out of hand that someone tears open Hugh's shirt and that way you can maintain good working relationships as well as your eyesight.
   
2. You don't have to pay for all the cheap people who came for the "free" drinks. Just pay what you own (with tax and tip figured in) and walk away, knowing some other chump can deal with the mess.
3. You can still walk in the city without undue fear, and use mass transit without a taser.
   
4. The evening isn't wasted, and neither are you. Go home and do something cool.
5. You cultivate an air of mystery. People wonder where you went. You don't have to tell them you played computer Yahtzee for hours.
   

And the greatest lesson of all is: Never start an open tab.

How to throw an uncomfortable party

So, I have mentioned the reorganizational fiesta that has taken place here where I work. The one in which Earnesto pandered to the majority of the people like a middle school kid vying for popularity by shuffling out 2.5 of the most disliked people in positions of authority. These were also the people who had the tendency to rain on the Project Negative Value, throwing unwanted bricks of reality into the mix. Not part of Team Feel-good, not big believers in Boyish Charm or unwarranted optimism. And now, definitely not card-carrying members of the I-Love-Earnesto club.

So, in the beginning of the month we had the first major farewell, celebrated in a low key fashion with a brunch drop-by. I planned it,with the help of some other very useful souls. It was stressful, but simple, and executed with relative ease. Fond Farewells to our HR director, who, despite some people's belief, was not in partnership with the Devil. Best wishes to the Midwest.

Last night we had the second major farewell, our CFO. I generally actually am not a big fan of her. She has been a bit of an old battle-axe, and I can't count how many times she threatened to stop my pay until I did what she wanted. But after 17 years, anyone deserves better than people singing 'Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead.' In fact, I think probably it is an indelible human right not to be treated that shabbily. Plus, it doesn't help that Earnesto announced her pending departure and then expected her to stay in and work harder than ever before on his pet project, Negative Value. I think it is like picking someone's pocket before you throw them overboard. Not fair play.

Again, I was assigned the planning role. Unfortunately Battleaxe had developed some very definite ideas about what it should be, and so had her crazy assistant. Somehow it would come out of my budget, and be the farewell of their dreams. That's not how it works. You take what you are given.

Not if you are Battleaxe. She told us she wanted a wine and cheese night, which really mucked up planning. It had to be after hours. We had to buy wine etc, I won't give you the painful details, but more than once I swore that the Hatchet (Battleaxe's assistant) was going to be the death of me. And last night was the pinnacle of the ridiculosity.

But enough with the Complaining. I said How-To. Here We Go:

• Make sure the person that the party is for is not well liked. It means that the people there will be split between the few that do lie her, those who are obligated, and those who want to make sure the body is cold/dance on the grave.
  
• Make it at an awkward time. Ideally, you would need to reschedule 2-3 other essential meetings to make it happen. It's even batter if you can arrange a meeting that the boss has to go to midway through, so it's a little reminder that the honoree is important, but not that important.
  
• Plan for a ridiculous number of people, and invite the world. We planned for 75 people, in an organization that max employs 375. That way when the majority of people do not show up, it is patently apparent with gobs of space and plates of food and bottle of wine that won't even get close to being touched. I think we maybe had 40 people, including incidental foot traffic. Can you say awkward?
• Have wine. Alcohol is a great social lubricant. It is also a bit tragically hilarious when the institution drunk indulges and gets soused enough to be utterly ridiculous in front of the two or three visiting dignitaries, and then announces he is going to get back to work. Furthermore, it allows for the awkward toasting moment when everyone seems to have a glass, and not one can think of a good reason to hoist it up besides 'Good riddance.'
• Make sure the cohosts at this close to snapping and getting in a fist fight. If one is for some reason unable to lift heavy objects, it helps, because the heavy lifter is then tempted to heave the table into the other person's head, and it shows.
  
• However, to keep it in the realm of party and not bloodsport, put away the corkscrew and dispose of any empty bottles as they arise.
  
• Do not plan a clean up strategy or a closing time. Nothing says uncomfortable like the visible gasps for breath a party has when an hour in the same people are looking desperately around for an excuse to leave, and no one has the courage to kill it.
  
• Finally, plan another going away party for the next night, to be held at a inconvenient location, and frequently have the honoree mention who will be coming to that party in a manner that looks like a desperate bid to prove that they have friends. Nothing shows a lame party for what it is like the comment that the next party will be much better.
  

All I have to say, is in 16 years if I am still here, please just take me out back and shoot me. Then it won't be so strange that m going away party feels like a wake.