Another coworker from our group was leaving. Young, competent and adorable, she has made her presence enjoyable for the past 2 and half years thus the news of her departure sad and regretful. Many activities were called to bid our farewell: lunch, potluck and even a drink after work on her last day. Potluck was no issue, therefore I gladly pitched in my share of contribution and patiently endured an hour of obligation of being crammed in a small conference room with plenty of pots and lucks for both eyes and stomachs. It was the lunching out and the after-work drinks that pushed the limit.
Truthfully, the lunching out or after-work drinks have always been there; they are just totally irrelevant for the social scrooge like me, who has learned her lesson well that less is more or none at all for the sake of the well-being of everyone. This unfortunate impediment comes in two forms: my inability to find the balance between give and take for conversation and the fated outcome of turning into the third wheel anywhere and every time. The tragedy, though, lies not in the curse itself but in its object, who is presumably old enough to be mature and graceful and yet anything but. Thus, I habitually turned my ear off with this invite, the reminders and the inquiry from the very beginning.
Friday, day of the event, came. There lingered in the air the excitement for both the special event and Friday itself. The day seemed to be relatively slow and lazy. A couple of persistent coworkers continued to solicit from me my participation for the “happy hour”. I’d either pretend not hearing it or joke it with something light to avoid the subject. All day long, the struggle was there between going or not going, agreeable or disagreeable, me or not me. “Not” would be the usual easy way out, but somehow I was feeling less and less “easy” by the hour as I struggled with something more than want I wanted. DS, who had left 2 months ago, would be taking time off, enduring the Friday afternoon traffic and going the distance to make the event. AND, it was her last day. Should I insist on my own comfort zone or my obstinate, selfish nature at the expense of basic human kindness??
3:30 pm. People were wrapping up and getting ready to head out to the party. I was keeping quieter than ever, hoping to dodge any last attempts. I heard the guest of honor’s footsteps and there she popped in. She was to bid farewell. “Just in case you don’t come…” We hugged and then she was gone. I was left there, struck by not only the implication of her last presence to me but also the assumption of my last to her! Suddenly I was not alone. There crept out that greatest sin of mine - the contrarian or rebellious button that could not afford to be pushed. And that was exactly what that farewell did: me in the company of the worst ally. My whole being had been in turmoil all day long till that moment when revelation hit me and set me free then and there: I would go because you guys expected me NOT to go.
I arrived with another coworker an hour later. He was feeling guilty for not going, while I was feeling something far from guilty: brave, liberated and determined. Our appearance though surprising did not cause much commotion as I had anticipated. We sat at the end of the table and started our share of spirits and fun. The water outside of the porch was a hue of dusky blue, the sun gleaming above a soft golden, the beer cold and laughter merry. Ere long, I forgot what the party was about and who it was for and why I was there. It was just me talking, listening and laughing without much care. I had made plan to stay for a half hour show. By the time I hit the road, it was 2 hours later.
Sober and alone in the car, I was hit by the unavoidable realization – the warrior who had come to conquer and claim was in fact the traitor. I would like to blame it on the beer, or the hypnotizing wave under the lazy sunset that turned me into that shameful defector, drinking and laughing like one of them. Still, I have to ask if the reversed outcome was in fact another trick of life in that the house, nature, always wins despite of our ploy and scheme? Or like movies, you should always go with the least expectation to have the maximum enjoyment? Either way, the truth remains that the happy hour, sadly, turned out to be happy after all – even for this rebel.
Truthfully, the lunching out or after-work drinks have always been there; they are just totally irrelevant for the social scrooge like me, who has learned her lesson well that less is more or none at all for the sake of the well-being of everyone. This unfortunate impediment comes in two forms: my inability to find the balance between give and take for conversation and the fated outcome of turning into the third wheel anywhere and every time. The tragedy, though, lies not in the curse itself but in its object, who is presumably old enough to be mature and graceful and yet anything but. Thus, I habitually turned my ear off with this invite, the reminders and the inquiry from the very beginning.
Friday, day of the event, came. There lingered in the air the excitement for both the special event and Friday itself. The day seemed to be relatively slow and lazy. A couple of persistent coworkers continued to solicit from me my participation for the “happy hour”. I’d either pretend not hearing it or joke it with something light to avoid the subject. All day long, the struggle was there between going or not going, agreeable or disagreeable, me or not me. “Not” would be the usual easy way out, but somehow I was feeling less and less “easy” by the hour as I struggled with something more than want I wanted. DS, who had left 2 months ago, would be taking time off, enduring the Friday afternoon traffic and going the distance to make the event. AND, it was her last day. Should I insist on my own comfort zone or my obstinate, selfish nature at the expense of basic human kindness??
3:30 pm. People were wrapping up and getting ready to head out to the party. I was keeping quieter than ever, hoping to dodge any last attempts. I heard the guest of honor’s footsteps and there she popped in. She was to bid farewell. “Just in case you don’t come…” We hugged and then she was gone. I was left there, struck by not only the implication of her last presence to me but also the assumption of my last to her! Suddenly I was not alone. There crept out that greatest sin of mine - the contrarian or rebellious button that could not afford to be pushed. And that was exactly what that farewell did: me in the company of the worst ally. My whole being had been in turmoil all day long till that moment when revelation hit me and set me free then and there: I would go because you guys expected me NOT to go.
I arrived with another coworker an hour later. He was feeling guilty for not going, while I was feeling something far from guilty: brave, liberated and determined. Our appearance though surprising did not cause much commotion as I had anticipated. We sat at the end of the table and started our share of spirits and fun. The water outside of the porch was a hue of dusky blue, the sun gleaming above a soft golden, the beer cold and laughter merry. Ere long, I forgot what the party was about and who it was for and why I was there. It was just me talking, listening and laughing without much care. I had made plan to stay for a half hour show. By the time I hit the road, it was 2 hours later.
Sober and alone in the car, I was hit by the unavoidable realization – the warrior who had come to conquer and claim was in fact the traitor. I would like to blame it on the beer, or the hypnotizing wave under the lazy sunset that turned me into that shameful defector, drinking and laughing like one of them. Still, I have to ask if the reversed outcome was in fact another trick of life in that the house, nature, always wins despite of our ploy and scheme? Or like movies, you should always go with the least expectation to have the maximum enjoyment? Either way, the truth remains that the happy hour, sadly, turned out to be happy after all – even for this rebel.
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