One for the personnel file
My boss's wife had a baby in early February, but for some reason the office-sponsored baby shower was today. His wife and the kid came in for the event, and the entire staff and faculty were invited.
The idea of being expected to purchase a gift for my supervisor already bothered me--I went back and forth about what to buy before finally running out at lunch yesterday and picking up a generic-looking blanket at Macy's. This morning I wrapped it up (yes, at work) and slipped it into the gift pile, figuring that with so many, it'd be received in relative anonymity and acknowledged through a thank-you note later on.
Leave it to my coworkers to elevate a baby shower to the level of a ceremony. Office protocol seems to dictate that these events be heavily catered and rigidly structured, but today they took it to a new level by formalizing the gift-giving process.
We all gathered at 2:00. Once my boss had made the rounds with the baby, the shower officially began with a short speech by our president--in hindsight, not much of a surprise, since most major get-togethers, including the once-a-semester all-faculty meeting and the yearly Christmas party, begin the same way. Then we were instructed to eat. Another social- and baby-phobic coworker and I retreated to the corner with our cake and punch, figuring we could eat quickly and then slip out.
At precisely 2:30, one of the party planners announced that because the administrative staff had to be back at their desks at 3:00, they would now take turns presenting their gifts to the happy family. Individually.
I did hear the accountant, a generally cranky man in his 60s, mumble something about how there was no way he was going to do this, but everyone else acted like this was perfectly normal, except my antisocial coworker and I, who exchanged horrified looks in the corner and plotted our escape.
After a decent interval. we sauntered toward the food table, trying to look like we were just going up for a second helping. The table was next to the door, so we figured we'd toss our plates in the trash and make a quick exit. Except, of course, that the trash can was gone, having been moved, of course, immediately behind the guests of honor, busily opening gifts.
In hindsight, we should have taken our trash with us, but my coworker attempted to throw hers away unnoticed. Of course he looked up and said something about understanding that she needed to get to class--an airtight alibi, because she did in fact have a 2:45. Coincidentally, his wife had just selected my coworker's gift to open, so they did so post haste, oohing and ahhing and thanking her profusely.
With my usual social grace, I stood there stupidly at her side until they'd finished thanking her, then scuttled out the door on her heels. I'm sure that when they got to my gift, my absence was announced, and probably noted by the president and the VP. Hopefully my mad job skills will make up for my lack of a ceremonial gift presentation.
I've always known I wasn't cut out for corporate America, let alone corporate America, 1950s style. That's one of the reasons I went into academia. Leave it to me to manage to find the country's most corporate school.
The idea of being expected to purchase a gift for my supervisor already bothered me--I went back and forth about what to buy before finally running out at lunch yesterday and picking up a generic-looking blanket at Macy's. This morning I wrapped it up (yes, at work) and slipped it into the gift pile, figuring that with so many, it'd be received in relative anonymity and acknowledged through a thank-you note later on.
Leave it to my coworkers to elevate a baby shower to the level of a ceremony. Office protocol seems to dictate that these events be heavily catered and rigidly structured, but today they took it to a new level by formalizing the gift-giving process.
We all gathered at 2:00. Once my boss had made the rounds with the baby, the shower officially began with a short speech by our president--in hindsight, not much of a surprise, since most major get-togethers, including the once-a-semester all-faculty meeting and the yearly Christmas party, begin the same way. Then we were instructed to eat. Another social- and baby-phobic coworker and I retreated to the corner with our cake and punch, figuring we could eat quickly and then slip out.
At precisely 2:30, one of the party planners announced that because the administrative staff had to be back at their desks at 3:00, they would now take turns presenting their gifts to the happy family. Individually.
I did hear the accountant, a generally cranky man in his 60s, mumble something about how there was no way he was going to do this, but everyone else acted like this was perfectly normal, except my antisocial coworker and I, who exchanged horrified looks in the corner and plotted our escape.
After a decent interval. we sauntered toward the food table, trying to look like we were just going up for a second helping. The table was next to the door, so we figured we'd toss our plates in the trash and make a quick exit. Except, of course, that the trash can was gone, having been moved, of course, immediately behind the guests of honor, busily opening gifts.
In hindsight, we should have taken our trash with us, but my coworker attempted to throw hers away unnoticed. Of course he looked up and said something about understanding that she needed to get to class--an airtight alibi, because she did in fact have a 2:45. Coincidentally, his wife had just selected my coworker's gift to open, so they did so post haste, oohing and ahhing and thanking her profusely.
With my usual social grace, I stood there stupidly at her side until they'd finished thanking her, then scuttled out the door on her heels. I'm sure that when they got to my gift, my absence was announced, and probably noted by the president and the VP. Hopefully my mad job skills will make up for my lack of a ceremonial gift presentation.
I've always known I wasn't cut out for corporate America, let alone corporate America, 1950s style. That's one of the reasons I went into academia. Leave it to me to manage to find the country's most corporate school.
posted by Madame Defarge at 4:22 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home