You wake wearily in the mid-afternoon, shower, eat 'breakfast' and watch a selection of bad afternoon TV; maybe surf the net and reassure family and friends that yes, you are in fact still living, breathing, and haven't dropped off the face of the earth. Then begins the nightly ritual of donning your uniform (or not, if you're lucky) and making your way to work - just as most others are making their way home to the one's they love and their couch, or even to your establishment for a bevvy. 'But what of the others?' you might ask. 'Surely you meet single, eligible humans whilst working'. And this is a valid point. But dating the clientele, well, that's a whole nother blog post.
The real worry here folks is your colleuges; your chums; the steady crew of people you see every single night and spend more time with than any of your family or friends. Every night you're together, hour upon hour, trapped in an area no larger than an aeroplane toilet, serving, chatting, bitching, joking, laughing, playing... accidentally bumping into each other... brushing up against each other...
And so it begins. The taunting, the teasing, the flirting - bringing a new and raw excitement to the workplace which inevitably carries over into the staff room, then on to the iconical 'staffies'. Staffies - aka staff drinks - happen mostly everynight, or sometimes just on weekends. They can happen at your work with a few cheeky pints on the sly, or move outside to the nearest late-opening local. But no matter what, staffies is a breeding ground for the formation of work romances and one night stands. One drink turns to two, then a few, and before you know it bottles are bought across the counter at closing time and taken back to some unsuspecting co-workers house for an impromptue house party. Their house is warm and cozy, everyone's tipsy, there's couches, there's beds - you can pretty much guess the rest. Sometimes it takes only one staffies, sometimes it takes a few. But no matter how hard you try you cannot escape the nocturnal naughtiness of the after-work drink.
Then comes the aftermath.
Even if you actually remember the events that took place this isn't going to ease the nervous tension that comes from the fact that you know everyone at work knows exactly what happened - and they sometimes remember even better than you do. When your next shift comes around you hopelessly try to avoid discussion of the subject at all costs (except with one best friend and confidant - we all have one), and the prying eyes and stares. It's about then that reality sets in and you ponder the following critical questions that strangely alluded you earlier:
- Do they have a partner?
- Does everyone at work like them, or did you just sleep with the person that everyone secretly hates?
- Does someone else at work like them, and are they at this very moment plotting to kill you?
- Are they in fact 'doing the rounds', and have you just become one on a list of many?
- Does this person actually like you?
- Do you even like them?
- Are you going to live happily ever after, or are they going to ignore you, avoid you, and request never to be on the same bar as you again?
And so on and so forth. I think we can all agree this type of paranoia is unhealthy in any situation, especially in the work environment. But alas, this is what becomes of creatures of the night when interbreeding takes place. Don't get me wrong - I know of many instances where workmates have hooked up and gone on to live very happy and normal lives. But sadly I feel the relationship graveyard that lies beneath every bar and pub claims many more lives than it spares - so beware...
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