Party Post-Mortem

It has barely been a day and a half since the party and I think I am close to letting it go.

The idea was for people to have fun and enjoy themselves before the two-tiered furlough came into effect.

Though we had many compliments (some from people who are notoriously difficult to please) it felt like we were constantly barraged with complaints, both internal (social committee) and external.

I only wish people knew how close we were to getting absolutely nothing.

Absolutely. Nothing.

Times are understandably tight but it was due to the protest of one person over the gross extravagance being planned in the L.A. office when the Toronto office was going be sent off with little more than a “Thanks for coming out, see you next year”- that logic and a sense of fairness prevailed and a modest budget was provided for both offices to bring a little levity to what has been a trying year.

But what do people do?

Whine and complain how little notice there was to use the prizes they won. Could we be a little more ungrateful? We only had prizes because people were able to trade on favours for donations and we made the decision to set aside a large portion of our budget to acquire the rest.

To throw salt in the wound, a big portion of the loot was won by the least deserving on the Santa scale. Murphy’s friggin’ Law rears its ugly head. Awesome.

My thinking for next year- no prizes, you ungrateful bitches.

There was also no sense that this was organized by volunteers. No one paid us and nothing was set aside for us- though we would joke about a super secret something just for the social committee. It was nice of some (more than slightly tipsy) people to ask if we needed help but it was more than demoralizing to have committee members (some of the most cranky) watch as we cleaned up or put more things out or, the best, just walk away.

I lost it towards the end of the evening.

I just wanted to go home.

I was tired of listening to people talk smack about others.

I was tired of all the complaints.

I was tired of all the people who got in the way (because they thought it was funny) as we tried to clean up and put everything away.

I was just tired.

And angry.

When I am royally pissed, I react in one of two ways- Tasmanian devil hair pulling and screaming (very rare) or crying. My poor boyfriend had to deal with my puffy red eyes, tear stained face and my expletive laden tirade over the events of the evening. The chilly walk home together really helped mitigate and dissipate my venom.

The day after the party, I had to explain to the poor person who just happened to be the straw that broke my back that it wasn’t something she said earlier in the evening (something which could have been construed as racist) that set me off. She didn’t help the situation but she certainly did not deserve the full force of my frost.

I am down to the occasional snide cryptic comment to friends in the know. Thankfully there are no obligations to plan events in the near future, paid catering gigs aside, of course.

The party is not even 48 hours in the past but it feels like it happened ages ago- and that is where I hope it will stay.


~ by angryegg on December 18, 2009.

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