Office Christmas Party

I've been around Brad a lot. And for a long time. So sometimes I forget what it's like to look at him through fresh eyes.

Things that cause other people to go 😕 don't even register as a blip for me anymore.

Recently, at a small work training webinar, I was reminded of one particular Christmas party that Brad attended. I do recall the party, but don't remember *all* the details of that incident, so the quotes are more the gist, rather than exact words.

At this work webinar, we were discussing our upcoming office Christmas party and whether we would be attending. One employee said she enjoys the parties, but also sometimes wishes she had a legit conflict so she didn't have to attend. And man I feel that. Not necessarily just for the office Christmas party, but for social commitments in general. I want to do the things. I agree to do the things. I plan to do the things. And then I regret all the aforementioned things. As the the things approach, I don't want to do the things. 

Sidetracked--that's a whole other circus.

So, after she indicated her wishy-washy feelings about attending/not attending, I mentioned that it's usually held the weekend of Brad and mine's wedding anniversary and some years (depending on the cattle head count) we'll take a quick weekend getaway, so we can't always make it.

She then laughed and was recalling the first office Christmas party she attended, wherein she met Brad. I had forgotten all about this, but remembered as she began to tell the story.

 It was held at King's Pointe Resort in Storm Lake. The main ballroom had been subdivided by design into smaller rooms to accommodate several parties. 

Another important note. Brad and I (almost) NEVER ride anywhere together. He wants to arrive when he wants and he wants to leave when he wants and he doesn't want to be hindered by me staying/leaving early/late. He doesn't like to be trapped. He wants his own vehicle and he's driving. He doesn't ride with other people either for the same reason. I morbidly joke sometimes that we don't ever have to worry about finding a guardian for our children because there is little risk of us ever perishing in the same tragic accident. 

So, I apparently had arrived solo for the cocktail hour and I assume was enjoying the festive atmosphere of the party.

Some time later as we're all sitting, drinking, conversing, getting ready to eat, (sans Brad up until this point), Brad barrels in and was like, "Oh, here you are!" 

He's not quiet. He's not subtle. 

It's like BAM.

"I've been at the Christmas party next door for 20 minutes! *Indicates party next door with thumb over shoulder* I thought it was yours, but turns out it was for the bank uptown."

Crickets from the rest of the party attendees, all eyes on Brad.

Brad and I are somewhat of rural rednecks. Not "cultured", not PC, not tactful, not diplomatic. Just us. When the situation calls for it, though, I can typically fake it well enough.

Not Brad.

Most of our clinic employees and +1's were there. Fun group, but most were probably not on our rural redneck wavelength. 

"Um, didn't you notice I wasn't there?" 

"Well not at first, but I got a drink, and then figured out it wasn't the right party and you weren't there. I knew that couldn't be right but then I saw "so and so" and talked to him for a minute. Did you know he worked there!?"

Loudly. Brashly. 

Not quiet.

Still standing at the entrance to the ballroom.

Still crickets from everyone else.

*FACEPALM*

Employee's spouse (at the party) whispers (good naturedly, I can only assume) to her, "what just blew in here?"

LOL

Like I said, I forget that people look at Brad somewhat puzzled sometimes. Not bad, not negatively. Just like "what just happened?" 

It struck me as funny that she remembered 7ish years later that her husband made a comment about it. 

It's like the time Brad was wandering the halls of my somewhat urgent OB appointment *loudly--while STILL on the phone with the sale barn--while I'm down the hall in an exam room waiting to see the doctor* asking random staff if there was a fax number he could have a sale bill faxed to (quality steers wait for no one, you know).

Um, what?

I assume most people don't do that. I just sighed and continued to lay there, staring at the ceiling, knowing resistance was futile.

I used to spend a lot of time trying to shush him when he's *LOUDtalking* (it's a thing) or explaining him to other people who don't understand his particular trademarks. (He probably feels the same way about me with my {unfiltered} writing).

But I really don't anymore.

I've learned to (nearly) fully embrace (nearly) all his (nearly) completely loveable traits.

It's kind of more fun to let it all unfold on it's own, anyway. Amusing to watch, really.

And for whatever weird reason, most people seem drawn to..? fascinated by..? intrigued by..? him. 

Me included, obviously. 

Maybe I should hire him out for office Christmas parties. 

Apparently he was a hit with the bank uptown.