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As I’ve mentioned before, there’s really only one coworker that I really get along with. Most of this is caused by the fact that I work in HR. When you throw in the fact that I am a dude, more or less ignore PC terms in my daily language, borderline abuse alcohol and tobacco products (sometimes at work but that’s allowed), and have no qualms telling someone they’re wrong, I’m not exactly the prototypical HR Manager.
However, knowing that I only have the one person who has become my bro here (even though my bro is a she), I decided to spend this week finding myself another bro to hang out with. Luckily for me, the stars lined up as this week was basically an adopted Texan holiday in Cinco de Mayo. After convincing my coworkers that we needed to get sloshed in the office, and having to tell a team of hilariously unaware HR managers that we cannot call it a “Mexican party” because that is 100% racist, people started agreeing to bring the booze and tacos.
Since I am the new (and only) guy, I was told that I could pick the music for the party because I am from Texas and know more about Mexico than they do. Grazing over the fact that Texas literally went to war with Mexico, I knew that this would be my chance to pump some RRB, Casey Donahew, REK, Pat Green, Eli Young and JB & The Moonshine Band into my office speaker system. Side note: thank God everyone was too shit-faced to realize what they were actually listening to when Perfect Girl by JB came on.
Between the Shiner I brought, the margaritas that my new friend’s Veteran husband told her how to make and just life decisions, in general, the party was actually really starting to be enjoyable around 1:45 p.m. when we had given up all hopes of working that day. It was roughly around this timeframe that one of my coworkers who weighs all of 90 lbs, who had a baby seven months ago and thus hasn’t had a drink in two years, began to start wobbling.
It’s worth noting here that we work on a VERY high floor in downtown Seattle, but we do have the benefit of a balcony just outside our office space. She immediately ran towards said balcony as we don’t have trash cans in the office because #Seattle. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on but the entire team of course had to follow her outside. She had juuuuuuuuuuuuuust made it to the edge of the rail when she launched a giant stream of pomegranate and margarita colored vomit that fell nearly a dozen floors to the ground where it splattered next to some dude outside burning one (it didn’t hit him).
You could smell the shame emanating from her body as she began walking to the bathroom to wash out her mouth. She came back from the bathroom and asked if anyone in our space had any gum. Unfortunately for her, nobody did.
Me, being the smart ass that I am, piped up, “No, but I actually do have some Grizzly Wintergreen that is essentially the same flavor.”
“Sure, what the hell. My ex-husband use to make me dip so why the fuck not?”
I was absolutely floored. While the rest of my team judged her immediately, I knew that I had just found a fantastic new friend in the office who I spent the next hour outside with just bitching about some of the headaches we experience at our company.
While I recognize that my new friend and I have probably put ourselves on Outcast Island, I know we’ll start recruiting more towards our degenerate ways as the #Texantakeover kicks into gear.
The irony here, though? She and I are the only ones who actually have kids on the team. Similar to what Brian has chimed in on regarding married friends going out, there’s something special when you get parents drinking. Just go ahead and assume all bets are off on a Friday afternoon at work whenever there’s booze present and parents who are pissed off.
I’m sure this will come back to bite us all in the ass. But you know what? That day, at least, it was 100% fucking worth it..
Image via Shutterstock