Monday, March 9, 2009
No Shots For You
Last week, I jetted down to Key West for a long weekend of working, coordinating, and being an all-around travel agent to a hoard of salespeople.
If you happened to catch my post from two weeks ago (yea, I have been a major slacker, my apologies for zero posts last week), you might recall my mentioning my Spring Break-esque trip down to Florida to celebrate a few of our top salespeople's achievements this year. The trip went almost perfectly (there was one snag - the hotel lost one of my very, very important boxes and my boss was not pleased).
I did have one fear going into the trip and that was consuming alcohol. The most drinking I have done around co-workers has been at going-away parties and cocktail parties. But I'm not exaggerating when I say I would abstain from drinking more than two glasses of wine/beer. Getting drunk and telling off my boss scared me sober. At my old company, it was easy to avoid drinking. Usually when I was working events, drinking a few glasses while on the job would be deemed tacky. And when I was in social settings, it was easy to nurse a glass of wine.
My new job, however, has led me into a land of temptation where our sales team will moan and groan if they aren't given more than two drink tickets at a work happy hour function paid for by our company. This trip was especially tricky because it involved being "off" the job on a tiny island where it was highly probable that I would happen upon my co-workers and my boss at bars on Duval Street. And gasp I might be drunk.
And happen upon them drunk I did. I saw one co-worker unsuccessfully try to pick up girls by buying them Jell-O shots. One co-worker, when asked if he had had a good night responded with, "Yes, and a great morning" - yea ew. And another co-worker drunkenly followed me and my friend back to our room (stopping only to thrust his pelvis a few times while in front of our boss's hotel room) to only realize that he had gone two floors too high when he couldn't find room 235 on the fourth floor. Over-served is an understatement.
The whole purpose of this trip of course was to relax. And when I say relax, I mean the salespeople who had won the trip were there to kick back. I was there to work. So I was naturally nervous to consume one too many beverages when I was off the clock. Which was confirmed, when as I was about to shove a Jell-O shot of my own down my throat, one of higher up salespeople told me I should veer away from any kind of shots. Apparently, my boss loathes them. Which he then followed up with, "Don't worry, I won't tell him I saw you take one." Which of course caused me to have a minor panic attack.
So I threw out that shot of raspberry Jell-O and vodka goodness, and ordered another beer. Any other shots that were bought for me by co-workers that night, I would pretend to take and then throw out. I was being overly cautious, but let's just say I was glad I didn't have to lay on the floor of my hotel bathroom the whole next day.
While I can't say that I wasn't a teensy bit inebriated most nights of my work vacation, I can truthfully say that I didn't embarrass myself in front of my boss (though I have to admit I made one of my co-workers pretend to be my older brother to ward off a 40-something drunken tourist with a tongue ring who just would not leave me alone).
I was really proud of the way I was able to enjoy myself and not overdo it. I had a great vacation and I met some great people. Oh, and I got a little, itty bit of a tan.