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I have a bit of a reputation for getting inappropriately drunk with coworkers. It may be the awkwardness of small talk with the higher-ups or that I'm not paying for the booze but either way, I've gotten too drunk one too many times. More often than not, someone else is just a drunk so it's not just me. But Saturday night, it was a different story.
In typical WG1 fashion, I proceeded to drink a little too much in celebration of our biggest event of they year being complete. Our event rocked and I rocked, my female boss told me that she couldn't have done the event without me and that 30 people told her how great of a job I did, so I was in quiet the celebratory mood. I had two rum and diets at dinner with my bosses and coworkers in the marketing department.
Then, the night got interesting.
One of our higher-ups is married with two little munchkins and doesn't get out much. We'll call him Michael Scott because, well, he kind of is like Michael School. When there are group business trips, he takes advantage and goes all out. Limos to a club, bottle service and champagne at the club and craziness all around. After waking up at 5:30AM and working on my feet all day, I said to myself that I would only go out for another drink or two. Well a drink or two turned into several. I was dancing on chairs, pretending I was the bartender with our table's bottle of vodka and singing my little heart out.
The club closed at 2AM, which was already much later than when I usually end my nights in the city. The group that was left which was just Michael Scott and a slew of assistants, we all hopped into the limo and were on our way back to the hotel. Or so I thought.
I thought wrong. We were on our way to an after hours club. I decided to go into little miss event planner mode and sat in the front of the limo with our driver. We drove and drove and drove around the northern California city and couldn't find the club. Why? Because it was hidden. It was like a speakeasy. Being with a group of other assistants made this whole experience less inappropriate but we were still Michael Scott. Once we finally found this after hours place, which in my memory was just like a rave but let's keep in mind that I was entering a blackout, Michael Scott had to fork over all of his cash to get the four guys that were with us into the place. Little miss party planner (me) proceeded to withdraw $120 out of my personal checking account and handed it to him to buy drinks.
At one point, he was holding my shoes while I danced and dancing with myself and other female coworkers to keep sketchy men away from us. Again, I was near blackout so this could all be in my head. At the end of the night, the limo dropped myself on one of my coworkers off at the hotel and everyone else started walking to Denny's. When the limo driver asked me who's room the limo should be charged to, I yelled "charge it to Michael Scott!" It was now 4:30 in the morning.
The next thing I remember is the phone ringing in my hotel room at 8:00AM. I had to be down in the lobby at 9:00AM to get to the airport. Needless to say, Sunday was a long day that included sitting with my head between my legs, alcohol seeping out my pours, vomiting in the airport and all sorts of awkwardness in front of my male boss.
But wait, the story doesn't end there. First thing on Monday morning, Michael Scott calls me into his office. "I think I owe you $120," he said to me and I awkwardly laughed. He then said, "you made me well aware that this was a lot of money for you to be taking out of your account." Uh, awkward.
We then sat in his office for about 15 minutes and had a true college-style recap of the night. He told me that he thought I was going to get arrested. To which I replied with a blank stare and then a "what? When?"
"When you were talking to the cop about where the limo was parked," he said jogging my memory a bit. I remembered talking to a cop and informing him that we were from an important magazine because in the state I was in, that was important. I remember arriving back at the hotel and seeing other coworkers getting in their cars to go to the airport. Bits and pieces of the night began to finally come together but every one of my actions is not accounted for and god only knows what else I said to Michael Scott or anyone else for that matter.
At one point, he was holding my shoes while I danced and dancing with myself and other female coworkers to keep sketchy men away from us. Again, I was near blackout so this could all be in my head. At the end of the night, the limo dropped myself on one of my coworkers off at the hotel and everyone else started walking to Denny's. When the limo driver asked me who's room the limo should be charged to, I yelled "charge it to Michael Scott!" It was now 4:30 in the morning.
The next thing I remember is the phone ringing in my hotel room at 8:00AM. I had to be down in the lobby at 9:00AM to get to the airport. Needless to say, Sunday was a long day that included sitting with my head between my legs, alcohol seeping out my pours, vomiting in the airport and all sorts of awkwardness in front of my male boss.
But wait, the story doesn't end there. First thing on Monday morning, Michael Scott calls me into his office. "I think I owe you $120," he said to me and I awkwardly laughed. He then said, "you made me well aware that this was a lot of money for you to be taking out of your account." Uh, awkward.
We then sat in his office for about 15 minutes and had a true college-style recap of the night. He told me that he thought I was going to get arrested. To which I replied with a blank stare and then a "what? When?"
"When you were talking to the cop about where the limo was parked," he said jogging my memory a bit. I remembered talking to a cop and informing him that we were from an important magazine because in the state I was in, that was important. I remember arriving back at the hotel and seeing other coworkers getting in their cars to go to the airport. Bits and pieces of the night began to finally come together but every one of my actions is not accounted for and god only knows what else I said to Michael Scott or anyone else for that matter.
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