on a friday ngiht after work, an NGO nearby had an office-warming. i'm thinking free drinks and food why not. so we go there and it's this 1984 cement GDR/DDR marvel. small offices with small windows, lime green walls and padded doors (so the SS don't hear what you're up to), foward-thinking unisex bathrooms and cramped hallway corridors.
|urinals are out of order|
in the small conference room there were munchies erdnuss flips (look like cheese puffs, only peanut flavor -heaven) and socially conscious beer and organic white wine. there were some rather long speeches, during which my colleagues would periodically poke me and ask if i understand. this happens a lot. and so as usual, i nod, sure, as in yes, i udnerstand most of it, but honestly it's just really boring so i eventually zone out and stop listening and wonder what bratislava is like or what i will eat later. this is also true for most meetings and discussions, sorry.
so after the terribly long and boring speeches, and one rather funny intern showed pictures of the old parking spaces, my wonderful colleagues and i sigh at the prospect of friday night networking. we examine our empty wine glasses, promptly fill them up and wander out to the stairwell where a DJ has recently set up. i don't know who said it, but i heard it "we might as well just dance."
my wine glass was magically refilled and there you go, 730pm dance party. i may have done something that qualifies as "grinding." our organization was the sole one represented on this dance floor, though i did try desperately to get the cute intern to join us, he just seemed to think we were aliens.
there were glares are questionable stares and "are they really dancing like that" but you know what, we just proved who is more fun, and who will probably not get invited back to the christmas party.