Drunky at worky
One of the benefits of managing a multi-million dollar beverage company is being able to partake in the samples left in the office that are typically given as gifts. And, after a particularly long day, I want to open up a bottle.
"God, I so need a drink," I say to my co-worker. We're the only ones left in the office.
"If you want one, I'll have one with you." She leans back in her chair from her desk.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah."
"Well, we can't open any of the [brand number one], so we have to work with the [brand number two]. Is that okay?"
"I don't care." She sighs. "Just open a bottle."
I tell her where the bottles lie, I grab two cups, she opens the bottle, pours a half-cup in each of the vessels, and we clink.
It takes her a while to finish her glass while mine disappears in a matter of minutes. Not only was I in need of booze, but I was also dehydrated. I go back to the bottle and pour some more. By now, the bottle is already three-quarters empty.
"I'm already a little drunk," she says.
"I don't feel anything. Must be the high tolerance," I reply.
When I go back to my work, I take my cup with me. In about 10 minutes, my co-worker leaves. Thankfully, my work doesn't suffer, although it is done at a slower pace. No longer am I stressed and the world is a little blurry. When I get up, I feel a numbness in my legs. Shit. I'm losing it. I can still walk, talk and chew gum at once, but I'm doing it a lot slower. Fuck. Drunky at worky.
Thank God my boss isn't here. I don't feel like explaining the empty bottle or - potential - vomit stains on the carpet.
"God, I so need a drink," I say to my co-worker. We're the only ones left in the office.
"If you want one, I'll have one with you." She leans back in her chair from her desk.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah."
"Well, we can't open any of the [brand number one], so we have to work with the [brand number two]. Is that okay?"
"I don't care." She sighs. "Just open a bottle."
I tell her where the bottles lie, I grab two cups, she opens the bottle, pours a half-cup in each of the vessels, and we clink.
It takes her a while to finish her glass while mine disappears in a matter of minutes. Not only was I in need of booze, but I was also dehydrated. I go back to the bottle and pour some more. By now, the bottle is already three-quarters empty.
"I'm already a little drunk," she says.
"I don't feel anything. Must be the high tolerance," I reply.
When I go back to my work, I take my cup with me. In about 10 minutes, my co-worker leaves. Thankfully, my work doesn't suffer, although it is done at a slower pace. No longer am I stressed and the world is a little blurry. When I get up, I feel a numbness in my legs. Shit. I'm losing it. I can still walk, talk and chew gum at once, but I'm doing it a lot slower. Fuck. Drunky at worky.
Thank God my boss isn't here. I don't feel like explaining the empty bottle or - potential - vomit stains on the carpet.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
7 Comments:
I usually leave the drinking for after work in a less stressful environment but to each his own. So, now that you have unwound, what are your plans??? - Volker
Looking back, not wanting to explaing this type of situation might have been a main motivating factor to work for myself. ;-)
After work is usually a better thing to do. If you are still corked then I mean 'first worky' then 'drunky' oh and then 'takie cabbie homie'!
and here i thought you were gonna talk about how you and your co-worker hooked up in a moment of drunken exhaustion/lonliness...
Oh, if only I had this luxery. LOL
how very Mad Men of you !
sounds fun.
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