Office Holiday Party

So last night was the office holiday party and amongst the many things i learned about my company's employees, i found out that coincidentally the entire staff are sailors too. or at least they drink like em.

the olympic country club of san francisco closed its fancy doors on our heels sometime well after midnight. six hours in the company of debutants, old money and people you aren't sure if you like or only tolerate, yeah, we were schmoozin where mr. woods once walked. eating fresh oysters and the rarest slabs of grass fed beef this side of reno and guzzling seven bottles of wine, thirty cocktails and a case worth of beer. yeah, it was interesting.

the no nonsense boss got hammered and charmed the table. cuban cigars and stories of international wanderings were all passed around but these were the points of note...

as it was only core of the office staff in the later hours, the boss openly and coldly mentioning that the long haired employee who had to leave early would be fired before the new year. it seems that leaving right after the dinner was only one of his mistakes.

through some careful eavesdropping, i discovered the office's superchristian right winger had been makin a little money on the side through a stone supplier he liked to spec. the boss knew of this told him to quit playing the martyr.

and to top it off, a female employee came out and then confided in me with her superior cunnilingus technique, practicing on my finger, which she swore was a guaranteed way to three orgasms. "i mean, if you don't get three orgasms..."

i nodded in agreement.

the company pushed around famously unattractive clients into each other's hypothetical beds and i managed snap on the sly, a hundred blurry photos with the company digital camera. wishing i knew how to erase about 80 of them, there were a few good ones that stood out. the one of the bosses short and stout shadow stretching over the conversation. the one of his wife laughing like a monster. the ugly aging elite waltzing on the dance floor. the dickens carolers in vintage attire mingling like dolls. snap, snap, snap, i took more candid shots as we all smoked the thick cigars on the terrace.

another story, another beer, anther story, the tables were again clean white linen, tomorrow's settings were going out. then the check came twice. (i hope that doesn't come out of my christmas bonus) a vacuum set down its serpentine cord on the lobby carpet. the spare food was placed in plastic and thrown into the dumpsters. the cigars went out, everyone's souls a bit too much revealed and homeward bound, merrily, we all must have stumbled.