Lesson 3 – Work Drinks

Thirsty Thursday. Work drinks. A mysterious and confusing semi social affair, where office politics and gossip is fuelled by alcohol into an odd bubble of weekly relief. Of course, you’ll recognise some of the usual culprits…

  1. The lad trying to recreate his uni days, he’s in his late 20s, hates his job and just wants to reminisce the good old days by forcing people to down their drinks. Maybe he’ll grow out of it one day…
  2. The unstable middle-aged man who corners anyone willing to listen about how his wife walked out on him 15 years ago with a stripper named Chiko…
  3. That 50 something year old cougar who gets a little frisky and hits on every new graduate…
  4. That guy who doesn’t drink so will remember everything and probably have photographical evidence of all misdemeanours including you getting with Wendy from accounts. Great…
  5. The person who’ll always ‘Get the next one in’ but will he fuck. With mates, it’s all swings and roundabouts because somehow it balances out. But not with this fuck who’s on twice your salary…
  6. The charming fox who outside of the office seems to get even more sexy. In your head, the wedding bells are already ringing…
  7. Talking of crushes, the girl who’s into you a little too much and follows you around like a poodle. Why won’t she just get the message! Ok, deep breath and just smile as she inappropriately touches your bum…
  8. The guy who’s had a little too much fun juice. Avoid like the plague unless you fancy being left to look after him…
  9. And finally, your boss will turn up for the first round and then make a sly exit muttering something about having to take the kids to swimming class tomorrow morning. Actually, it’s probably a good thing…

With this gang, my first work drinks were memorable to say the least. By around 10 most had called it a night, but not me. Although I had reached my limit I still accepted that drink from a work colleague who I didn’t really know apart from the occasional hi as we passed. Nonetheless we were best friends now…And this is when I started to bust some moves; I’m talking sprinkler, the George Michael hip flick thing, even the worm. Hell, if my boss were here to see me I’d most certainly gain a promotion. Discomania had hit me hard and I felt myself begin to sway but I still wasn’t ready to pull the brake on the fun train.

And this is when it was decided that I needed to have my initiation into For Your Eyes only. Like many readers I wasn’t too sure what this was until at 3.30 I found myself sat (at this point I was so trashed it was more of a battle to not fall off) on a questionably stained velvet armchair surrounded by cladly dressed women. At least I think they were. I was so fucked I had no idea what was going on. If I’m honest they may as well have checked me into the cloakroom and picked me up at the end. I understand it’s meant to be an enjoyable experience but it’s very difficult when your slightly older somewhat pervier colleague is sat next to you moaning ‘oh baby’ while a lady looks to be suffocating him. I’m still not entirely sure why people visit these places, it certainly wasn’t sexy. An experience all the same.

While all this went on my phone continued to vibrate. Oh, did I forget to say? That 50-year-old cougar propositioned me earlier and this was me about to be kidnapped. Awkwardness at the photocopier guaranteed…

 

The final obstacle one finds themselves up against is getting home; with no tube service, you can only hope the Uber gods are kind and quick. And where are my bloody house keys?! Ah yes in my bag which was left in the bar. Shit. At least my friend lives around the corner…

 

My introduction to office work drinks left me with an awful hangover and both dignity (if it ever existed) and keys lost. But on the upside, there was lots of gossip for the next day!

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