Hey gang. It’s effin’ Friday (friday, friday, friday) and I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy.
This week has been absolutely ridiculously crazy busy and my bones are so sore I feel like I’m 65.
Anyway, I thought you all would enjoy a story from the good ole office I know everyone loves.
Monday is Shyneesha’s (star of the Great Emergency Room Debacle of 2011; the Great Slumber Party Debacle of 2010) last day. She got a new job and was offered lots more money. Obviously, the office is sad to see her go, but we are happy for her upcoming opportunity.
She has known about the possibility of this job for more than a month with all the paperwork, lunch meetings, and interviews she’s gone through. However, she did the right thing and didn’t tell the higher ups until it was time to put in her official 2-week notice.
In the weeks before she put in her notice, she was talking about how she wanted to say goodbye to her office. In order to avoid getting emotional, she said she didn’t want some big party. She said she would rather say separate goodbyes to people or perhaps just go to lunch with a few of her closer office mates.
Fair enough. I always know that a day will come when I leave this office (at least, I hope so) and I know I definitely DO NOT want a party. I just don’t do well in situations where the attention is all on me.
Once Shyneesha put in her notice, her boss Jodi (the Coffee Pot Nazi) said she wanted to host a party of some sort for her. She asked Shyneesha to choose: lunch at a nice place or a pot luck office party.
Jodi was leaning toward the lunch out, and at first, so was Shyneesha. But then she said she didn’t want people to have to pay for something like that, so she picked the pot luck.
Hrmm…ok. I went to Jodi and just told her to let me know what I should bring.
Later, Shyneesha pulled me aside and said she didn’t like the fact that Jodi was planning the party. She said it was going to be lame and that she wanted me and some of the other ladies in the office to meet with Jodi and make sure it was going to be cool.
“What do you mean? What do you want at the party?” I asked.
She said she didn’t want it to be just sweets and chips and dip (understandable). But then she started making a list of the things she wanted: perhaps it could be catered, canned sodas (not 2-liters), she wanted the boss to make her pumpkin roll, Ashley to make her spinach dip, me to make my strawberry cupcakes, Tamara to make her ham rolls…
Somehow, someone got the memo that Shyneesha wanted a group of us to help Jodi, because I got a meeting alert for it. So we met and made a list of things to bring and for people to sign up for.
I opted out of the cupcakes and chose the fruit tray instead. It definitely irked me that Shyneesha was being so demanding for her own party. The past few people that have left our office haven’t gotten a party. Other goodbye parties I’ve heard of are a simple sheet cake and punch.
But, being the good coworkers we are, we put the sign up sheet in the kitchen and started planning a few other things for the gathering. I offered to collect money for a large gift from all of us, as well as put together a photo album for people to sign.
As the week went on, I noticed NO ONE had signed up to bring anything for the party. So the group started sending several reminders…and only a few things were being signed up for.
So Shyneesha and I were in the kitchen yesterday morning and she was checking out the sign up sheet.
“How come I only see your and Ashley’s name up there?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You probably need to remind people to bring stuff,” she said.
“We have…about 4 times,” I said, pissed.
“Well I usually plan these things so I remember to put ice and stuff on the sign up sheet…I don’t see that here,” she said.
“No one signed up to make the meatballs…I really like to have meat at my parties,” she said. “I guess I will just make them myself.”
“Why? Jodi is making a pasta salad that has chicken in it and someone has signed up to bring sandwiches, that’s plenty.”
“Ok, well I just like to have meat,” she said.
I left the room, pissed. I had spent $40 on fruit and supplies to make fruit skewers, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a 6-cup salad for her fucking party and all she wants to do is bitch about meatballs.
For me, a restaurant lunch would have been cheaper. Not to mention the time I spent running errands to get a card, a journal, photos printed, and the office gift purchased.
I was exhausted.
I went to Ashley and vented. She understood how I felt and said Shyneesha probably was just upset that people weren’t making a big deal out of her leaving. Why? Probably because the world is still turning, we all have work to do, and she got a promotion at a place in town, so we’ll see her again.
I still did my part and made all my fruity treats last night and will help set up this afternoon. But I won’t do it happily.
Welcome to the fucking meat party.