Oh, God, kill me now.
That's all I fucking need the week after my fiftieth birthday.
I just popped out for noodles and it seems that every smegging pub and restaurant in Westminster is festooned with posters yelling at me "Tis the season … for FABULOUS FUN CHRISTMAS PARTIES!!!!!"
"Book Now to avoid disappointment!"
Er … never mind the first part; I'll rant about that another day (as you probably already guessed); let's look at that last phrase again shall we?
"… to avoid disappointment".
Who the fuck do they think they're kidding?
All over the country, factories are busy churning out microwave catering packs of shit ready to reheat and become office Christmas party meals.
Congealed platters of inedible disappointment.
Frozen festive foulness that bears no relation to any food I've ever known or even imagined.
Horrifying portion-controlled abominations of industrial agro-chemical waste that would choke a Cratchit.
What delusional fuckwittedness makes companies all across the country droolingly imbecilic enough to imagine that staff morale can be improved by presenting them with a fœtid lump of reheated "turkey" (or at least the bones, beak, gristle, feathers, feet and any other parts of a battery-grown, growth-hormone packed, antibiotic-pumped mutant any butcher would throw away, smeared to a pulp in an industrial press and mixed with textured GM soya protein, flavourings, preservatives and anti-oxidants and pressed into shape), slapped on a plate with a paltry selection of the cheapest and nastiest vegetables money can buy, boiled to a mush and smothered in enough salt to kill a moose, with a cheapo, crap cracker on a sideplate and a glass of industrial cleaner masquerading as "house wine"?
Not forgetting a sausage the size of a cigarette butt that contains no meat at all.
And a noxious and mercifully tiny ball of "stuffing" made from carpet fluff and dog-vomit that stinks like a tramp wanked into a bag of dry-roasted peanuts.
Avoid disappointment?
Fuck off!
I've already avoided disappointment by contriving to dodge our compulsory Christmas meal for so many years now that management hardly bothers asking me any more.
CJ came round a couple of weeks back, armed with an idiot grin and a piece of paper and said "Any chance you'll change the habit of a lifetime and indulge in our glorious Christmas festivities this year?"
To which I could only reply with a healthily sarcastic "Fuck off!"
At which point CJ showed me the piece of paper he was holding which turned out to be a management sweepstake to guess my response.
Andy from Accounts had picked the winning reply, but others came close with "Bollocks", "Fuck that", Screw you guys, I'm going home" and the disarmingly charming if utterly preposterous "Oh, yes please!"
It's nice to know my bosses use their time so productively.
Enjoy your lukewarm plates of disappointment, guys.
18 comments:
Avoid disappointment indeed! I see those signs everywhere and I scoff every single time! Who would be disappointed??? And puh-leaze! The one and only time I joined our Christmas dinner, and Thom's, at the office turned out to be disappointing - food-wise. So I'm glad I'm gonna miss all that coz I'll be where great food abounds. Thom's ditching it this year - on purpose. You'll never guess where they're going. Great Yarmouth. Wha??????
Holy buckets of festive crap, Joy!
Yarmouth?
They're having their Christmas dinner in Gt.Yarmouth?!?!?
God, I'm glad I've already eaten my lunch or I wouldn't have been able to.
Great Yarmouth: the arsehole of England. Not so much a town, more of a toilet.
You're kidding, right?
Whew! You and Thom certainly made the right choice by heading off to Manila!
My guess for your response to the Office Christmas invite would be: "Get the flock outta here!"
You would have loved our office holiday party last year: free-flowing champagne and a station with a guy making fresh sushi. Man I was so full and tipsy after that party. Another year we had a chocolate fountain, which was a huge hit. This year we're under an austerity plan, so I'm not quite sure what we'll get. As long as there's alcohol, though, I'll be there.
Katie: American's know how to part-ay. 'Nuff said.
Dive: I couldn't believe it myself. Listen to this. First Thom tells me that some stupid guy suggested they have dinner in Yarmouth after they've been to some dog-racing betting place! Can you see me cringing now??? You know my feelings about God's best creations, but a race, and they want to join the bets?! And eat where? Yarmouth! And they have to pay for their meal, too! Hell, even if they paid me, I wouldn't go.
As for my own org, I give up. I suggested an Italian place. Response: some people may not want pasta. Uh duh. The restaurant makes other things besides pasta.
So I don't really give a s*** where they have their Christmas dinner. I know I'll be enjoying mine! 3 weeks and 4 days to go! Woo hoo!
Belated birthday wishes, me ol' mucker and bah-humbug to everyone else.
Kaite, that's a nice demure piece of word-substitution.
A champagne and sushi Christmas party? Sheesh! Another reason to move to San Francisco. As if I've not got enough of those already.
Joy: Caister dog track? Mmmmm … What a romantic and Christmassy location.
With betting to remind us that the real message of Christmas is greed.
Sigh …
Three and a half weeks! Yippee!
Istvanski: Thank you, my musical mate! It's great to see you back in Blogville again.
Joy - There's actually a combined dog racing track/restaurant down the road from us. You can eat as you watch greyhounds tear around the track. Classy, eh?
One of my worst Christmas meal experiences was a family do at a so-called carvery where we all lined up to have turkey dumped onto our plates by a huge, pimply, sweaty, greasy haired bloke. Everything had been coated in a thick layer of salt. There were signs everywhere saying "The Party Starts Here!" despite the fact that most of the customers were in their eighties and had bought their hundred year old parents out for what was probably their last Christmas meal. Grim.
Classy indeed, Betty!
Wow! I think I was at that same party! Any event that boasts tipsy nonegenarians is a must for my date quest.
and i thought i was the grinch, sugar! the MITM's mom is out in new mexico with his brother now and won't be back home (our house) until 29dec. so no christmas here!!! i'll have to find a place to send her next year, too! xoxoxox
Hee hee, Savannah! You are incorrigible.
xoxoxox
Well, well. There's a surprise. he he. Dive balking at Christmas.
I think my guess would have been - (long serious stare at poor person in front of his desk then..) "Go away. You know better than that. Go away."
After some years as freelance and getting some invitations only to finger buffets really, this'll be the first year I've been invited to one for a long time. Er. Wish me luck. I'm quite looking forward to it.
Ugh - Holiday Parties. I don't even know why companies bother with them to be honest. One company I worked for was so worried about what to call it so that they wouldn't offend anyone.
They finally settled on: Year End Employee Appreciation Party.
Y.E.E.A.P.
They even did away with the alcohol!!!
Where's the incentive to go?
Now thats a rant worthy of the Marley brothers.
You're opvertaking me in yuletide sarcasm and thats saying something. I converted to Judaism to get out of the whole christmas cheer crap.
Dive, you and I agree again. I've had enough "Christmas" to last 12 life times.
I don't think I can ever eat again.
Lynn: Scrooge should never have sold out at the end. If I were Dickens I'd have had him selling off the Cratchit children to anatomists and rendering their parents down for tallow.
You're looking forward to an office Christmas party? Really? You've definitely been out of the loop too long. Good luck!
Shazza: A Year End Employee Appreciation Party? With no alcohol?
Holy crap.
That company should be prosecuted under Human Rights legislation.
Kate: I've yet to get into my full anti-Christmas ranty stride. Have patience. Things will get swearier.
Mark: I find I need this seasonal abomination to keep my perspective; without Christmas each year I'd lapse into happiness and how awful that would be.
Robyn: That's a pretty extreme diet.
I hate how capitalism ruins Christmas.
Me too, Katherine, but it does give me lots of opportunities for cheap, ranty posts.
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