Tonight was my first Christmas Party with the new company. It was my second social event (you will recall the fundraiser.) The only thing I tell myself on the drive home is “I need to be open to this new group.”
My identity as “everywhere man” is hanging by a thread as next years budget is being reviewed and there are no where near the number of trips planned for me as promised in the interviews. So my new identity is not the comfortable skin of the well season traveler, but the “project guy” who can quickly accomplish the amazing feats of mailings, phone calls, and special projects. It’s just not as sexy, nor is it as comfortable skin a to be in. But give it time I will.
Piano bars are really fun for girls who like to drink and sing. It’s a bold statement, but follow me for a minute. Girls like to be social drinkers, they want to chat with friends and have a central entertainment between drinks. They have emotional connections to certain songs and with a few drinks will sing as loud as they can. Piano bars are perfect for groups of girls to drink at and have a good time.
Guys are not so fond of piano bars. It’s loud, you can’t talk to one another, there are no TV’s with the game on, and some guy is trying to get me to clap and sing along with him. Plus he’s not playing songs I know and like. Could you please turn the volume down?
So it will come as no surprise that similar people who planned the fundraiser planned this years Christmas Party (and yes, it is a Christmas Party and not a Holiday Party here, which I am happy about.)
This group of girls, loud girls, had lots of drinks on the company and sang their favorite songs along with the two piano players who kept telling the rest of the company how we were “lame white programmers” which got a chuckle after the “I Like Big Butts” song but not so much after the “Michael Jackson is a Child Molester” song he made up on the spot.
This company is made up of some very good people. I guess I need to be a little more open minded when the woman down the hall tells me about her grandchild in one sentence and after a few more drinks asks if I am planning to stay the night in the city… and yes, she was alluding to something more. Or the high maintenance chick from the black tie thing tells my boss how we first met and what a great guy I am… yes alluding to something more. Open my mind to the married woman who can’t seem to keep her hands to herself after one of those really big drinks or five… and I wish she would just allude to things rather than touch me again.
They are good people. But I must say that having been there less than 60 days I already feel a bit uncomfortable with the “small town” feeling. Starting over is never easy.