Corporate Theater

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. I think I read that on the back of a cereal box or something.

Apparently it's Shakespeare. Fuck me right? Well anyway it makes a lot of sense. In any situation, people take on a character, and all of their actions are consistent with whichever character they are playing in this performance we call life.

The modern office is no different. Each of the employees from day one adopts a persona, and plays out this character for the duration of their tenure. It's not typical for these characters to change mid-scene, though it has been known to happen. Consistency is key for humans, so once you're typecast, all of your actions will be interpreted through that lens. Et tu Brute?

Right?

Nonchalant Smart Guy - Or NSG, as he will hereforeto be referred, is the one who everyone hates, but also secretly wants to be. This is the employee who never seems like he's trying, yet through charisma, luck, and what all others considers to be a fair amount of cheating, continues to move up and catch the eye of those in charge. This is the guy who can talk himself out of nearly anything, and is so annoyingly charming that no matter how many times you try to sabotage him he always comes out on top. Blast!

Overachiever - This person just outright sucks. Unequivocally. This is the employee who comes in early and stays late, yet constantly complains about how much work he has to do. 100% chance he operates inefficiently just to be able to say "OMG I worked 10 hours today". His quest to make everyone look bad positions him as the sworn nemesis of the NSG.

Dunce - This poor guy. He tries so hard to imitate the NSG but always comes up dramatically short. This goober, more often than not, finds himself laughing at his own jokes. Whereas the NSG's advances are met with giggles and adoration, the dunce ends up with the sexual harassment complaint. It's almost like he wasn't even paying attention during the orientation video.

Office Slut - There's always one. Pretty self-explanatory. Offices are typically pretty incestuous, so the one deemed office slut isn't always the one who has slept with the most co-workers, but simply the one who people know the most about. It's typically a bum rap for this poor girl because her co-workers are probably just as bad but vastly more secretive.

Can you forward me that quarterly report?

Office Hottie - Without fail there's a girl in your office who everyone wants to get with. As you read this you know exactly who I'm talking about. And it always seems like there's some roadblock keeping you from sealing the deal. She's got a boyfriend, she's a lesbian, you're a douche... always something in the way.

Office Drunk - This is an essential character in the office drama. This is the brave soul who shows up to work hungover 94% of the time, making the one or two times that you do it seem inconsequential by comparison. He is the inebriated standard to which the rest of the employees compare themselves, and is more often than not the one making drunken advances on his boss at after-hours work functions. Makes your disheveled life seem not so bad right?

Brown-Noser - Ugh, the brown-noser is a more irritating version of the overachiever because coupled with that annoying trait of actually trying, this a-wad makes a show of it. This is typically the idiot who went to one too many business seminars in college and thinks that the way to get ahead is to pucker up and smooch anything that even remotely resembles an ass. Ahh how sweet it will be when he has to french both of your cheeks. Suck it nerds.

Uptight Supervisor - Another villain. Everyone has had an experience with the boss who takes themselves way too seriously and feels the need to micromanage you. He's always over your shoulder, and so deep in your shit he could tell you what you had for lunch. There are few more satisfying feelings than drawing this guy a diagram of where he can stick all of his memos and snarky emails.

Undeserved Sense of Accomplishment Guy - Quite possibly the arch-villain of our play. Unlike the NSG, who progresses via aptitude and devilish wit, the USAG ascends the corporate ladder by riding the coat-tails of his far more successful significant other, and struts around the office like a teenager who just lost his virginity. Taking liberties with corporate policy, and the overall d-bag vibe he exudes make his face especially punchable. Forms a reluctant alliance with the brown-noser as they both try to fellatio their way to a corner office.

Potentially Postal Guy - Every office has this guy. Usually wears cargo shorts, never says a word to anyone, and somehow knows all the words to Papa Roach songs. It's incumbent upon you to do whatever is necessary to get on this guy's good side so you get the note that reads, "you should probably go to lunch" right before your office mysteriously burns down. And I thought he was just looking out for my blood sugar levels.

Office Clown - The sidekick of the NSG. He's equally smart but at the end of the day... just really  doesn't give a shit. He was the kid in school who never studied but always got good grades, and got his thrills by making others laugh and torturing those in charge. An integral cog in the office morale machine, don't ever underestimate his ability to either keep the office in good spirits and/or totally upset the establishment.

In the spirit of equality I suppose the office slut can be a guy. Although in guy world it's all hugs and hand pounds for the person who sleeps with the most co-workers. Social sexual equality discussion for a different day.

Gotta jet. I've got a meeting to sleep through!

Office Romance

Someone smart once said, "don't shit where you eat". Now, I'm not sure if he meant don't poop at the dinner table, or don't take your meals in the john... either way I think he was on to something - literally and/or figuratively.

"Dating" in college is cakewalk, partially because that term is more ambiguous than Sandusky's morals. Everyone opts to exist in this vaguely gray area which allows them to basically sleep with anyone they want and pull the "we were never official" card if they get called out. That notwithstanding it's easy to surround yourself with people who are into the same things as you, be it sports teams, sororities, fraternities, or possibly the ever riveting quidditch... way to be William & Mary. If for some reason nobody appeals to you in the circles run in day to day, fear not. With patience comes prosperity and in no time flat you'll have the opportunity to dive head first into the hormonally charged circus that is college on the weekends... which typically starts on Wednesday.

From there it's basically fishing with dynamite.

After 10 games of civil war and few long island iced teas you can't resist the girl at the other end of the bar with most of her teeth screaming a horrifying rendition of TLC's "No Scrubs", butchering all the words while wrist deep in cheese fries. Mom would be so proud.

Then 4 years, and $100,000 of mom and dad's money later, you're forced to walk across the stage and renounce your old ways. You abandon a world of cheap alcohol, where irresponsibility is passed off as "finding yourself". The proverbial music stops and you're all of a sudden expected to pay bills, wear pants, and actually know the name of girl you slept with last night. What is that about?

You do what you're supposed to do and get a job, and each and every day you wonder how in the hell you're supposed to meet anyone interesting. Apparently the business world isn't exactly what Mad Men made it out to be. My secretary isn't nearly that promiscuous.

Inconceivable!

You've got to choose from the pool you're swimming in, and while when discouraged your friends will opine "there's plenty of fish in the sea", if you work at the wrong business it could be a sea full of carp. Nevertheless there's a chance you'll get lucky, and the cute one in the office next to you finally gets your name right, and you guys hit it off. But wait, you don't want your coworkers to know. How embarrassing will it be if these 80 people that you don't give two shits about know that you... you know... have sex! Much less with someone else in the office! They'll all think so much less of you. What a harlot!

Inevitably, while trying to hide your scarlet letter from the people who you see every waking day of your life, you make it infinitely more obvious that there is, in fact, something going on, and after about 12 seconds of painfully awkward interaction, everyone in the office can tell you exactly who it's going on with.

Don't worry, I've come up with a solution for you, and present to you 5 bulletproof ways to make sure that nobody, not even the love child of Columbo and Sherlock Holmes, suspects a thing.

Eye Contact - At no point, I repeat, no point, should you ever make eye contact with the person you've been sleeping with. In fact, your best bet is to go so far as to divert your eyes from them at all times. Your co-workers will just assume that you guys have never met and therefore couldn't possibly be doing the horizontal tango.

Public Interaction - This ones easy. Avoid it. Like Kim Kardashian avoids dignity. When the opportunity presents itself to go out together don't take the bait. This "group of friends" that you guys always hang out with is just a quorum of people waiting to unlock your secrets. Don't let them lure you in. Stay vigilant.

Diversion - As soon as anyone brings up the name of your office romance, quickly turn the tables back on them and accuse them of sleeping with a co-worker. This is a tried and true diversion tactic and 60% of the time it works every time. Adeptly take the heat off of yourself, and focus it onto the person sitting next to you. They'll never see it coming!

2nd Grade Flirting - This is the commonly agreed upon best way to throw your other co-workers off the scent. Make sure to take careful, well thought out measures to act like you absolutely hate the one person you're getting it on with. Go out of your way to make them look stupid, to prove to everyone around you that they aren't nearly worthy of your nakedness. Everyone will quickly believe that you actually despise each other and they'll never be any the wiser.

Exit Strategy - So far so good. The entire night you've made 0 eye contact, ignored each other 98% of the time though when forced to interact all you've done is comment on one another's shortcomings, and you've accused your team member of sleeping with the secretary. All the pieces are in place. Nobody has any clue that you two are going to leave together. The coast is clear. The only way to get out clean is to giggle and make as much of a scene as possible, tell everyone that she is simply giving you a ride home and then sprint for the door before anyone can question you. Everyone knows you don't want to pass up a free ride home, so they'll assume you're being responsible.

You've done it! You've successfully deflected all suspicion that you are having an office fling! You're the Thomas Crowne of intra-office fraternization. You should be very proud of yourself. They just put a dead bolt on the storage room... might as well go celebrate!

Santacon: A Timline... I Think

As the old saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. For young adults, a picture is typically the only way to figure out what the hell happened the night before. Those times we've woken up somewhere we don't recognize, next to somebody we would like to forget, wearing an adult diaper and only one sock, can only be explained via the photos that were snapped the night prior. They say that you should always travel with friends so you don't get hurt. Bullshit. Travel with friends so they can fill you in on how you did the entire Gangnam Style routine on top of the bar.

Last weekend was one of those weekends.

Ho Ho Holy Shit

Santacon is a phenomenal institution. A massive Santa Claus "convention", Santacon allows for participants to partake in two very important aspects of modern American society: charity and public intoxication.

On Saturday, December 15th, sixty venues who participated in NYC Santacon donated a portion of the day's proceeds to the Marine Toys for Tots Foundation: as of right now, they've reported $20,000, with a projected total of $45,000. Also Santacon participants were asked to bring two cans of food to support local food banks. Santas donated 6,850 lbs of canned food at the event's starting point, which City Harvest is distributing.

Willie, Ginny, Snyder, myself, and a few others, affectionately known as Team Tinsel Dick, decided that it would be a good idea, nay, our civic duty, to participate in such a a heartwarming event. Now that it's been about a week, and all the pictures have surfaced, I would like to share for you an outline of how next year you, and yes even you, can spread some holiday cheer.

Friday, December 14, 2012
4:30am - Wake up in Charlottesville. Have to get down 29 to Arlington before the DC traffic gets too bad. Bus leaves at 10:30. Company Christmas party open bar is coming back to bite me.


4:35 - Eat a toaster strudel. Or two.

4:45 - On the road. Things are looking good.

7:00 - Arrive at Willie's in Arlington. Straight to the couch.

9:00 - Rudely woken up by Willie. Morning wood strikes again.

9:15 - Head to Snyder's to catch the metro to Union Station.

9:40 - Asian guy singing hymns on the metro. Guy gets pissed. Asian guy bails only to surface on another car going the opposite direction. Yes... Still singing.

10:15 - Arrive at union station & meet up with Snyder. Ginny is MIA.

10:25 - Board the bus. Ginny is still MIA.

10:30 - Ummmm. Ginny?

10:31 - Last person on the bus. That a girl.

3:30 - Arrive in NYC. Pretty sure Willie crop dusted the poor girl next to him the entire time.

4:30 - Drop off our stuff and stroll around South Street Seaport. A calm afternoon in the big apple.

5:30 - So much for calm. Laz arrives at the bar.

8:15 - Did you say unlimited wine? At a sushi restaurant?

10:00 - "We'll just head back to the apartment to meet our other friends then we'll meet you out".

10:15 - Ginny falls asleep in the cab.

We didn't make it back out.

Saturday, December 15, 2012
9:00am - Wake up on the couch. Why is Ginny on the floor? Chivalry might be nearly dead?


9:10 - We lost Snyder already? Start blasting Ke$ha in hopes he arrives.

9:30 - Wow. Can't believe that worked. Team shower?

10:00 - Here come the mimosas.

10:30 - I'm undecided whether having the tolerance of a 19 year old female is a good or bad thing.

10:45 - Time to suit up. A gang of female Santas, a reindeer (who could be mistaken for a wookie), a snowman, and a gift set out to the subway.

11:00 - Frighten locals, pose for pictures, and try to create as much havoc as possible on the streets of the Wall Street district. Always an awkward moment when you think someone is in costume and it turns out that they aren't. God bless America.

11:30 - Willie bonds with a 12 year old black kid on the subway. Drops some knowledge on him and gives him the "go out there and be somebody" speech. Poignant shit.

12:15 - Have walked for what seems like an eternity led by a diminutive ginger. After a couple close calls with motor vehicles and ruining people's lunches we arrive at our destination. We make our way to the bar.

12:20 - Carve out a decent spot. Oh there's only 8 people in our group? Yeah 20 shots seems like a reasonable idea. 5 Fireball, 5 Soco & Lime, 5 Tequila, & 5 Jameson.

12:30 - Bartender is taking too long. C'mon man you've walked by us like 3 times.

12:35 - Really guy? Just gonna pour shots for the people next to us and pretend like we aren't there.

12:40 - Two can play this game. Reach over the bar. Grab 4 shot glasses. That bottle of Fireball? Mine now. Time to bartend.

12:45 - Start distributing shots down the bar. One for you Buddy the Elf, two for me.

12:55 - Busted.

12:56 - Not kicked out? Greatest city in the world. Thankfully there was someone at the other end of the bar vomiting in his shoes so I wasn't public enemy #1.

1:30 - Gingerbread man dancing on a table and the sounds of shattered glass. If that doesn't scream Merry Christmas I don't know what does.

2:00 - Wait where did Willie get mistletoe? Why is he looking at me and holding it over his head?

2:01 - 4:40 - ??????

4:45 - Time for food. Meander into a pizzeria. This is a dangerous time of day. Everyone is very hungry and a little bit tired. This restaurant also seems way too family friendly for the likes of us. Wait. Where the hell is Laz?

6:45 - There he is.

7:15 - I'm assuming we paid for dinner? Back out on the town.

7:30 - Nightingale? Sounds like a good place to find a lot of strippers.

7:45 - No strippers. A guy dressed as Ted though. Good enough

8:00 - Willie... Willie... that person in the reindeer costume... yeah that's not a girl. Damnit.

8:30 - Alright everyone has been talking about this place Exchange, might as well go see what its all about. 

9:30 - Gangnam Style? I've been waiting for this all day of course I'll make a total ass of myself! What took you so long to ask?

10:30 - Longest walk in the history of forever back to Nightingale.

11:45 - Fuck it. Time for bed

Surprisingly enough everyone made it out alive, and the only thing sacrificed was a shitload of self respect and far too much cash. See you there in 2013. Happy Holidays everyone!

Spoiled Rotten

This is going to be tough for me to admit. Tougher than admitting that I know all the words to "Your Love is My Drug"...

Athletes are a spoiled species.

There. I said it.

And as I die a little inside I can hear the snickering from the nerds, lighting their pitchforks, or broomsticks or whatever, and high-fiving to my confession. Well. You can all suck one.

Due to the obvious fact that we put our bodies through hell and sacrifice months of our social lives at a time to be in top shape to perform like circus animals for your amusement, I contend that we deserve a little pampering now and then. A free meal here, a massage and stretch there seems like small restitution for the years our respective sports add to our bodies. I hope technology progresses exponentially in the next few years because I already find myself craving the sweet embrace of a wheelchair.

Here's the problem. We get so used to being well-taken care of, that when our careers are over we are hit with the realization that there's this whole ass-backwards adult world where your hot trainers don't stretch you everyday... and... wait for it... you don't get free gear whenever you want.

Fuck.

How are we supposed to survive years of this? Moreover is this what the rest of our lives will be like?

No worries comrades. We'll prevail. Over the past year and a half I have been able to do some research, picking up little tidbits as to how all of these "normal" folks are able to carry on day to day. Ha. They think I'm one of them. Idiots.

Free Food - Apparently the athletic department stops paying for your food when you graduate. Turns out that walking across that stage was the worst damn decision I ever made. I keep trying to tell my boss that its game day so that they'll provide catered food for me before the meeting and a potluck afterwards with a bunch of strangers forcing barbeque down my throat. She's been surprisingly non-responsive. Asshole.

Laundry - One of the machines gets the clothes all wet and smelling less like the inside of an asshole. The other one makes your spandex so hot and warm it feels like your balls are in a downy soft toaster oven. I don't know how either of them work, or what the hell any of the buttons and dials do, but I suggest hiring somebody to take care of this for you.

Traveling - I tried to hop in my car, throw my headphones in, take a nap, and figured that by the time I woke up I would be at a Hilton and it would be time to go to dinner. I ended up in a ditch with a lot of people looking confused. Worst away trip ever.

Clothes - This may be the saddest revelation of all. According to my research you actually have to seek out your own clothing. I kept looking around for the room with all of my monogrammed #10 clothes and could never find it. Walked into a couple people's closets hoping it was a Narnia type scenario but all that gets you is a restraining order. Shit I don't even know what size I am. What's a NikeFit medium translate to in real people clothes?

Stretching - Yeah so... Turns out it's actually pretty important. I'm not sure I want to live in a world where I can't just walk into a room, lie down, and have some kind person lift my legs and twist them around for me. Also where the hell can I get my hands on some of the e-stim or ultrasound machines? I'm not even sure these things work for shit but boy did they feel great.

Finding Doctor - Alright confession time again. I was getting up from my chair at work and I'm 82% certain I tore my hamstring. In half. As I hobbled around the office in anguish I came to the horrifying realization that there are no longer people assigned to care for you. Furthermore you actually have to find your own doctor put back together instead of them coming to you and telling you what to do. Maybe I'll just limp for the foreseeable future.

Making Appointments - It get's worse. Not only do you have to find these physicians on your own but then you have to... make an appointment? Like anyone knows what the fuck that is. I was under the impression that if you walk in and make enough of scene some cute 20-something with a PT degree will rub your legs. And what the hell is the deal with the butcher paper on the tables? Nope. Not TP. That's my bad.

Exercising... Period - Wait wait. It's voluntary? Say word? Yeah fuck that.

I'm sharing the little bit that I have learned in this past year and a half. If any of you have any further information that could help us make the dreaded transition to the cold world where nobody is OK with group showers anymore then it's your sole duty as part of Team Retired Athlete to share your findings. Godspeed.