day 3

Last week, our dysfunctional section at work discussed our holiday party over e-mail, which is way better than discussing anything in person. When you work for the private sector, there might be a holiday dinner hosted by your company that you’d dress up for, and maybe bring your spouse to. What we do at Dot Gov is this: during the work day, we go out to breakfast at a restaurant that rhymes with pennies (think Moons over My Hammy), pay our own way, bicker for an hour, get separate checks (to the annoyance of the server), and have awkward conversation about permits. Someone always forgets their wallet, and someone else always has to leave before the checks arrive.

Depending on who the supervisor d’jour is, we sometimes get a little speech, something like, “Well, you guys didn’t eff up too badly this year, trained monkeys could do your jobs, let’s get back to work”. Then everyone stands around for a few minutes asking each other how to bill the time, and asking if we need to record vacation on our timesheets.

For a brief moment last week, someone different held the reins of deciding, and proposed that we go to a Mexican restaurant, where we were promised to get “the special treatment” from Gerardo. I was a big supporter of this plan, without even knowing what the special treatment is or who Gerardo is (what could go wrong?) Of course, the naysayers spoke, and we won't do it, but today is our holiday breakfast at our compromise locale, a golf course restaurant. I pretty much could write how it went now, before I go, but maybe something will happen...


  1. "Traditions are group efforts to keep the unexpected from happening." ... so much for the "special treatment"

  2. you see Gerardo tell him he still ows me for the meth (i mean special treatment) i gave him a while back.

  3. I'll be sure to tell him, zippy.


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