The trip to the karaoke bar was another sign the night had gone off the rails. And if any of the team had doubts about it, I was sure they were erased when Roz took the mic for her version of some long forgotten pop ballad.
“Who sings this?” I asked Wilson, next to me.
“Roz,” he said. “Don’t you see her?”
I looked at Wilson, he and I were supposed to be “buddies” for the first night out for drinks with the team in this new semi post-pandemic world we were in. I say supposed to because it took Wilson all of a half-hour to break our agreement of just two drinks each for the evening. That was over three hours ago.
“No, I meant the original,” I said.
Wilson smiled and shrugged and went along happily bopping to Roz’s warbling.
I turned to Ashley on the other side of me and said, “I hold you responsible for this.”
“Whoa, it was Roz’s idea to take everyone out,” she said. “Not mine.”
“But the karaoke was all you.”
She was about to respond when Roz let loose a chill-inducing screech that was intended to pass for a high note. There was some mic feedback mixed in and the crummy sound system seemed to be about to short out and shut down. All we were missing was a few pops and fizzles and maybe some smoke.
It was fitting that Roz’s performance would be the one to hopefully bring the curtain down on the night. The outing had indeed been her idea. A kind of team-building exercise as more people made their way back to the office. A get-to-know your colleagues all over again kind of event.
But as Roz said, there were risks. It had been a year-and-half since the last night out as a team. In between we had a pandemic, and now everyone was learning how to socialize with co-workers all over again.
We even had a little meeting yesterday to discuss strategy on how to handle drinks with the colleagues you hadn’t seen in a year. Roz brought in a speaker, a Dr. somebody or another who was apparently a distinguished and accomplished mental health professional, or so his bio said.
The good doctor encouraged us all to have an honest conversation with ourselves to get straight with alcohol, to decide what our relationship to booze was before we went out. Right about now I’d say everyone seemed to have a pretty damn good relationship with alcohol. Especially Big Mike. He was at the other end of the table holding a lighter aloft with the flame burning while screaming “encore” while Roz was still singing.
Apparently, what Mike didn’t have was a great relationship with the definition of the word “encore.”
Down at my end of the table a woman named Sylvia, who I faintly remembered from the pre-pandemic office, was rattling on about life and work at home. She was alternately speaking to me, Wilson, Ashley and anyone else who made eye contact with her for more than a half-second.
“And then, when the kids would finish up with remote learning, although I use the term remote learning loosely,” she said, slurring the last part so it sounded like “loose leaf.”
I looked away but she reached across the table and placed her hand on my arm.
“Were you at home too?” she asked.
“I don’t have a home,” I said, hoping that would extract me from this train wreck.
“Oh,” she said. A moment later she stood and excused herself.
At the other end of the room the doctor stood taking in the scene. Roz must have hired him on some package deal. Come to the staff meeting and the night out for a special price.
He made his way over to our end of the room and sat down across the table in Sylvia’s now empty seat.
“Is everybody in touch with their buddy for the evening? Any problems to report?” he asked us.
“Yes,” I said. “My buddy abandoned me.”
“Hey,” Wilson said.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the doc said. “That’s always the danger with these events, especially now, after the last year-and-a-half. People just want to let loose.”
“He’s letting loose, all right,” I said.
“Remember,” the doctor said, “pace yourself. People forget how they looked while having a few drinks after all this isolation.”
I looked at Wilson. His hands were above his head, clapping as Roz finished up.
As she came off the stage I spotted Suck-Up Andy racing toward her. He had been noticeably low-key throughout the evening, not making any obvious play for attention or letting anyone know how smart and savvy he was. Maybe it was a new Andy. I doubted it.
Roz made her way around the table, taking in the compliments and high-fiving the team with Andy trailing behind her.
“How about a drink,” I said to him.
He shook his head.
“Can’t, I’m her designated driver,” he said.
Roz smiled and said, “Isn’t he great?”
I had to hand it to the man. There was a genius to his strategy.
Someone was screaming “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” and I glanced to the stage to see Sylvia yelling into a mic that as far too close to her mouth.
I was ready to abandon my “buddy” and head for home when Wilson jumped from his seat.
“Anyone want to play darts?” he asked. “There’s a board back by the bathrooms.”
Mike sprang from his seat yelling, “I’m in. I even have my set with me.”
“You carry darts?” I asked.
Mike nodded. “Everywhere, you never know when you might get a game in.”
“That’s a little disturbing,” Ashely said.
“The idea of him carrying a set of pointed objects?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t take up ax throwing,” I said.