So last night was the Company Party. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say I've always hated such things. Primarily, I hate the artificiality of having to socialize with a group of people I don't know personally, talking to folks with whom I may never hold another conversation, about meaningless things. I mean, what's the point. Not my cup of tea.
I did, however, go home with a nice box of Neuchatel chocolates, compliments of The Company.
Fortunately, this was a dinner party. A few hors d'oeuvres, cocktails via extremely slow servers, then a limited menu, but decently good food. In case you were wondering, I had the salmon, with prosciutto/asparagus risotto and haricots verts. I am pleased to report they did not overcook the salmon; it was perfect.
I did, however, go home with a nice box of Neuchatel chocolates, compliments of The Company.
Fortunately, this was a dinner party. A few hors d'oeuvres, cocktails via extremely slow servers, then a limited menu, but decently good food. In case you were wondering, I had the salmon, with prosciutto/asparagus risotto and haricots verts. I am pleased to report they did not overcook the salmon; it was perfect.
The beef-eaters at the table were a bit disgruntled because it had come on the undercooked side, but I just thought they were whining. I like mine nearly moving.
They had some boss sized coconut shrimp for one of the hors d'oeuvres, but the ones I make blow those away. The shrimp part was good, but the coconut part was... pretty much missing, flavor-wise. Today's graphic is the last batch of coconut shrimp I made. I have certain specialties. And quality standards. (wink)
We were seated around large circular tables with white linens. Among those at my table were two young techie couples. Now, I'm a people watcher, so, I watched, and listened.
Couple One consisted of a late 20's/early 30's Irish (non-practicing) Catholic guy - he would have made a pretty good Apple commercial (cool, hip, young, trendy techie). He was sporting an unruly shock of black hair hanging over his forehead like a horse's forelock, porcelain-white skin, and multiple areas of jewelry such as earrings, lip rings, nose rings, etc. I didn't get the opportunity to assess for tattoos, however.
His date was his fiancee. She was young, sporting cleavage, sweet. Fashionably red hair, in a bob.
They had met in college, a large university with tens of thousands of students. Did the bar scene there and now live in a trendy area here where he proclaimed, "There's nothing to do but the bar scene in __________." Yeah, right.
Couple Two was about the same age, married. She is due to birth a child in a week, and works in payroll. He is another techie. A little bit more standard in flavor, they were, but still young and hip and... young.
The two techie boys spent the evening bemoaning the slowness of the servers, the dearth of quality choices of drinks, and their inability to suck down car bombs here because it was too classy a joint. In between, they made plans for where to go drinking, afterward.
Three of the four of them (the pregnant wife was the exception) discussed how their time was consumed with WOW. Irish Boy had bought his fiancee her own laptop for Christmas, to facilitate her playing, even more. This is their together time, apparently. Married Man brushed off his wife's sarcastic remarks about having no life apart from WOW. Hmmmmmm. I smell the compulsive brain at work, here.
Irish Boy's eyes glittered as he ordered drink after drink, trying the different whiskeys and vodkas. He would be assessing one, thinking out loud what he wished they offered, and what he was gonna order later, when they went to the tavern down the road a stretch. You could already see his thirst, for booze. While he was drinking one, he was already thinking of the next one, fidgety and impatient. When we all got up to leave for the night, his fiancee had half a glass of wine left in her glass, which he couldn't let go to waste, so he grabbed it and sucked it down quickly before rising from the table...
And as I sat there, myself the old fuddy-duddy, watching them, drinking through my three diet Cokes, all I could see were the future faces in the rooms of AA and Al-Anon before me, in a decade or two. The grey haired men, beating themselves for years lost and families disrupted. The haggard women, beat down from years of insanity and abuse. It was a surreal experience, to see the future, to see where the forces starting now would likely lead them.
At one point they teased me, asking why I wasn't drinking. I merely stated I had seen the results, the end of that pathway, with end-stage drinking. I left it at that, and their eyes glazed over even at that short remark, as if I had made an altar call to the heathen. I let it roll off me, their paths don't belong to me. I don't own them.
I was sad for the women, what is coming for them. They were both young and fresh now, cheery with the hope of the future. Rose-colored glasses that life will be one big adventure. Oh, yes it will, but not like you think, gals.
And as I left the party, I realized I had seen both the past, and the future, tonight. Back to the Future, it was.
The question is, will they reach the clock in time, in their respective stories?
We were seated around large circular tables with white linens. Among those at my table were two young techie couples. Now, I'm a people watcher, so, I watched, and listened.
Couple One consisted of a late 20's/early 30's Irish (non-practicing) Catholic guy - he would have made a pretty good Apple commercial (cool, hip, young, trendy techie). He was sporting an unruly shock of black hair hanging over his forehead like a horse's forelock, porcelain-white skin, and multiple areas of jewelry such as earrings, lip rings, nose rings, etc. I didn't get the opportunity to assess for tattoos, however.
His date was his fiancee. She was young, sporting cleavage, sweet. Fashionably red hair, in a bob.
They had met in college, a large university with tens of thousands of students. Did the bar scene there and now live in a trendy area here where he proclaimed, "There's nothing to do but the bar scene in __________." Yeah, right.
Couple Two was about the same age, married. She is due to birth a child in a week, and works in payroll. He is another techie. A little bit more standard in flavor, they were, but still young and hip and... young.
The two techie boys spent the evening bemoaning the slowness of the servers, the dearth of quality choices of drinks, and their inability to suck down car bombs here because it was too classy a joint. In between, they made plans for where to go drinking, afterward.
Three of the four of them (the pregnant wife was the exception) discussed how their time was consumed with WOW. Irish Boy had bought his fiancee her own laptop for Christmas, to facilitate her playing, even more. This is their together time, apparently. Married Man brushed off his wife's sarcastic remarks about having no life apart from WOW. Hmmmmmm. I smell the compulsive brain at work, here.
Irish Boy's eyes glittered as he ordered drink after drink, trying the different whiskeys and vodkas. He would be assessing one, thinking out loud what he wished they offered, and what he was gonna order later, when they went to the tavern down the road a stretch. You could already see his thirst, for booze. While he was drinking one, he was already thinking of the next one, fidgety and impatient. When we all got up to leave for the night, his fiancee had half a glass of wine left in her glass, which he couldn't let go to waste, so he grabbed it and sucked it down quickly before rising from the table...
And as I sat there, myself the old fuddy-duddy, watching them, drinking through my three diet Cokes, all I could see were the future faces in the rooms of AA and Al-Anon before me, in a decade or two. The grey haired men, beating themselves for years lost and families disrupted. The haggard women, beat down from years of insanity and abuse. It was a surreal experience, to see the future, to see where the forces starting now would likely lead them.
At one point they teased me, asking why I wasn't drinking. I merely stated I had seen the results, the end of that pathway, with end-stage drinking. I left it at that, and their eyes glazed over even at that short remark, as if I had made an altar call to the heathen. I let it roll off me, their paths don't belong to me. I don't own them.
I was sad for the women, what is coming for them. They were both young and fresh now, cheery with the hope of the future. Rose-colored glasses that life will be one big adventure. Oh, yes it will, but not like you think, gals.
And as I left the party, I realized I had seen both the past, and the future, tonight. Back to the Future, it was.
The question is, will they reach the clock in time, in their respective stories?
I don't know.
-The Traveler
3 comments:
Hey if they make it into the rooms of AA or Alanon, that's a success story. You paint such a bleak picture of people hanging their heads in regret--that is far more likely to be the case if they never stop. We're not a glum lot, remember?
Though, you know, I have learned that there are men who drink very heavily in their 20s and then do grow out of it, especially with their kids. It's a self-diagnosed disease--I wouldn't be so sure what anybody else's future is.
I personally am never discreet when asked why I don't drink, and I tell them the solution I found. That way someone who needs help will know where to turn when and if they're ready.
When people are ready, their ears work just fine to hear, as do their mouths, to ask questions.
And, when they first show up in the rooms, unless they are just released from a rehab/detox/jail, they generally are not in good shape. That's what got them there.
FBI profilers know that personality and behavior traits are remarkably consistent. That's why they look for the fugitive in the tattoo parlor, if that's his skill and where he's hung out in life, etc. They know his habits will continue.
Highly compulsive traits exhibited when young generally do not fade. The question is whether compensatory skills become developed early enough in the compulsive behavior path to keep the compulsions in the functional range for normal life, or if the compulsions lead to progressive disease.
People are not so unpredictable as is thought, longterm. Marketers know this. And they get paid lots of money, because they do. Correctly identify the factors and drivers, and you can see into the likely future pretty well.
This is why, when folks get into the rooms, and truly do the step work, they start to discover where they came from, how they ended up in the rooms. The roadmap is there, pointing to their destination, upon hindsight. It's not smoke and mirrors; it's natural consequence.
I talk about AA when I am anonymous. When I am ME, I talk about 'a path', or 'principles'. If I got sober the first time I went to AA I'd be sober over 20 years now. We can spoil opportunities.
I'm sure earlier in my life I would have found Irish impossibly HOT. Now I find him impossibly sad. Beautiful sadness, but sad.
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