"How did I end up here?"

These were the words I asked myself the other day at work. I was crouched behind a filing cabinet in the big boss's office which unfortunately meant that this wasn't a happy piece of introspection. Ostensibly I was hiding from a coworker who was passing out Spock ears, but I prefer to think I was just hiding from the inevitablity of me telling her to "Fuck off". While such a confrontation would make me feel better, I'd probably feel guilty about it later and of course regret having been fired. As reasons for hiding behind filing cabinets go, this comes a close second to an in-office-whig-out.

Why Spock ears?

My company had just launched a new product and we were having a bit of a party. This moment was years in the making so a lot of earnest high ups were determined to have fun.

Whenever an executive says the word party I feel nervous. They kind of grin at you when they say it, which makes you wonder if someone is going to try and cross the generation gap.
[A hallowed gap that should never be trod on in the mind of this author.]

So, some Executive Lame-o decided that the theme of the party should be Star Trek since our product looks vaguely like a space ship. Well, it looks like a spaceship to her. The rest of us are pretty sure she's just fucking nuts.

No problem I thought. There was supposed to be food and booze which I decided would probably make for a good time. Since I was tight with all those pressed into bartending, I figured that the two drink maximum was one of those rules that happened to other people.

[a posit which would prove alarmingly accurate]

Just before the party started, however, I'd been standing at my desk, avoiding crazy-eyed execs, when said coworker, came up and informed me that someone in IT had to wear Spock ears for the event.

She stared into my eyes and proferred them to me. After I established that she was serious, I did the first thing that came to mind.

El Jefe: "That would be E" (my boss)

D: (smelling managerial participation) "Oh, where is he?"

El Jefe: [pointing vaguely down the hall] "That-a-way"

D: "Thanks"

EL Jefe: ........ [scampers down the hall in the other direction]

Ok yeah,

I sold my boss down the river.

I like my boss... we're friends..

But I figure that's what he's paid for.

At any rate, after a bit of hiding I began to realize that A)this was altogether a bit too silly and B)I was a fucking professional and not to be trifled with..

So I got up, sauntered down the hall like a man, and got drunk on company wine.

Part-ay
El Jefe