It was quickly turning into the most confusing company picnic in the history of company picnics. I was sure this was not what the founders of these picnics had in mind.
That first get-together was probably with workers at a small business, maybe somewhere in the midwest. They gathered for an afternoon of relaxation, had a few drinks, played a few games, maybe horseshoes. Afterwards everyone agreed it was a lovely time, and just like that a new tradition was born.
Fast forward to 2021 and here we were. A few dozen strong circled around Roz in the parking lot of the state park, as if were leaving for an overseas deployment.
“Please, everyone listen up” she pleaded. She was holding a stack of laminated sheets and attempting to lay out the ground rules for fun.
“These sheets have the CDC’s new and confusing mask guidelines. Everyone please study it so we can have a safe and fun-filled company picnic,” she said.
Roz handed the sheets to Andy the Suck Up. He was her right or left-hand man depending on what side he could get closest on. He took the sheets and set out zipping around, handing them out as if it were the single most important task taking place anywhere on the planet at the moment.
I received mine and glanced at it.
“Choosing Safer Activities” was the title. In the center of the page there was a myriad of choices of activities. From going to the barber to dining at an outdoor restaurant with friends from multiple households.
Columns on either side of the activities featured the image of someone with or without a mask accompanied by green, yellow and red squares indicating some sort of danger depending on whether you were vaccinated or unvaccinated.
“There’ll be a quiz afterward,” Ashley said, moving to my side.
“Hey, that looks like you,” Wilson said, pointing to the masked man image.
From the middle of the group Roz did her best to explain our situation.
“Okay, so obviously a lot of these activities don’t pertain to us, like going to a museum or a barber.”
Big Mike’s hand went up from the side of the group.
“Yes, Mike,” Roz said.
“I think having a barber at the company picnic would be a great idea. Saturdays are when I usually get my haircut,” he said.
There were murmurs of agreement from some of the guys. I wasn’t so sure I was comfortable with the idea of my colleagues seeing me wearing the big barber bib.
Another hand went up from across the way. A woman whose name I wasn’t really sure of. She tended to mumble and I thought she had introduced herself as Stacey when she was hired, but it could have been Macey. Or possible Lacey. I didn’t bother clearing it up since I would never have to deal with her in her role.
I leaned in and strained to hear. “This says — (unintelligible syllables) mask regardless (more unrecognizable syllables) I’m vaccinated (something about a sling) indoor choir. I (what sounded like pooh sling) in a choir.”
“Did you know she sings?” Wilson asked.
“I would have never guessed,” I said.
Roz waved a hand to try and keep things moving forward but someone else spoke up.
“I’m a little confused about the guidance on masks at an uncrowded museum. I’m going next weekend.”
“It probably depends on if its a popular exhibit,” someone offered.
Roz was shaking her head, trying to keep us focused on having fun, after we were clear on the mask guidance, of course.
“Okay look everyone, please let’s keep the questions to our company picnic,” she pleaded.
“I don’t see a category for company picnics on the chart,” Mike said.
“That’s correct, not specifically” Roz said. “But I think we fall into one of the categories at the top. Attending a small outdoor gathering with fully vaccinated family and friends. Or attending said event with fully vaccinated and unvaccinated people.”
“So, are the fully vaccinated and unvaccinated family and friends too? Or just people?” someone yelled.
Roz wisely stayed on point.
“And we’re okay if we walk, run or bike outdoors with members of our households,” she said.
“My wife is coming by later so that may apply to me,” someone said.
“Are we doing a five K, or something this year?” someone asked. “I didn’t wear my running shoes.”
Tom from accounting seemed puzzled. He spoke and confirmed it.
“Are we really a small outdoor gathering? I just did a quick count and we have thirty-seven here, not counting the spouses who may show up.”
Evette from compliance had a solid plan, as she always did.
“We could make them quarantine when they arrive,” she yelled, “That would keep us below the limit until we get some clarification from the government on what constitutes a small gathering.”
Wilson tapped his sheet and turned to me.
“This one has me worried. Attend a full capacity worship service. My church has been getting crowded but I’m not sure we’ve reached capacity. I mean, it always seem like we can squeeze the late comers in.”
“Talk to the pastor,” I said.
Side conversations broke out now as Roz tried to wrangle her charges. There was talk of the museum exhibit, some of Dali’s works apparently. The exhibit was drawing even more interest now and would probably require a mask no matter what.
The mumbling lady was going on about her choir and a new song. Or, she could have been saying something was wrong. I wasn’t quite sure.
Roz tried her best to clear up any confusion about when masks would be needed during our activities. After a half-hour more of discussing how many people from how many households were expected I saw her turn and leave the group and go sit against the base of tree across the parking lot.
The conversations continued as if she were still there. The next departure was Big Mike.
“I’m going to get a haircut,” he said, walking past me.