HAPPY HOUR

Happy Hour

It never ceases to amaze me how business people throughout New York City, and across the country for that matter, go from day to night, quite literally, and unleash behavior the likes of an unruly college party, under the simple, yet highly accepted guise of "happy hour".

I'm sure you're all quite familiar with the term. And if you're not, then you must be the stinky guy/ girl that every one in the office talks about behind your back every chance they get and therefore noone invites you- In which case I drop this small piece of advice: deodorant and breath mints are crucial, and nobody cares about what your cat can do with dental floss and/ or a pizza pretzel flavored combo....

Anyway, so yeah, happy hour. Its usually scheduled for a Thursday or Friday evening, in order to break the monotony of the work week or to celebrate the start of a fresh new weekend. Standard behavior starts with the loosening or removal of the tie for men, and unbuttoning of the top button. Ladies, remove your shoes and slip on a pair of flip flops or sneakers, and either adjust your hair up or down, depending on how you had it all day at work.

There's usually one chair that everyone throws their suit jackets, coats, sweaters, purses, and laptop bags on....probably in/ around the chair that the guy/girl who does the most shots ends up in after the first hour. That's another thing, happy "hour" is NEVER actually an hour at all. more often than not, it lasts several hours, and sometimes past midnight.

So it starts off friendly enough: People are talking about the deal they just closed, complaining about the boss, the person that took the monster dump earlier, or the stinky guy/ girl (see above). A few toasts are made, a shot or two is thrown back, and everyone is having a good time....

Fast forward two hours: the shirts are all un-tucked, greasy food has been ordered, a female co-worker has inevitably scoped out the male whom she has decided will be this evening's victim (guys usually think its the other way around, but I'll tell you from a female perspective HE is the victim!) More shots, at least one person is dancing to a song on the juke box that noone else likes (possibly Livin La Vida Loca), two people have left because they are lame and married, and drunk guy/girl has found his/ her way to the chair-o-stuff. Not so bad just yet, we're all letting loose, behaving only mildly inappropriately and no harm done.....YET

Four hours into happy hour: The victim is outside on the curb smoking a cigarette (aka puking in the alley) while the female predator, post public make out with victim, is now crying to another employee about how she doesn't feel like people respect her enough in the office. The Republican who may or may not resemble Prince William has now begun doing "dick tricks" such as the wrist watch, the Loch Ness monster, and the dreaded Epcot Center (gulp, Im having flashbacks....hang on a second.....)

Ok, Im back....So the Predator starts making out with dick tricks (her second session of the night), while original victim starts a fight with the bar tender over the bill, insisting that he couldn't have possibly ordered the cheese fries because he is lactose intolerant. Somebody slips in a spilled beer, drunk guy/ girl has disappeared without a trace, there is a 3 minute false alarm about a missing laptop, and slowly but surely each person is coaxed out of the bar by either an empty wallet, an embarrassing spill, phone call from a significant other, or a bouncer with a chip on his shoulder.

There is a brief exchange about who is going to bring the donuts/ breakfast tomorrow morning or Monday if this is Friday, and the group trails off in their individual directions.

The next morning, no one speaks of the dick tricks, the make out session, or any other happy hour event. Its business as usual.......until next week.

Ya'll know, I'm right. Fantastic!