Posted by John
I realize I’ve been beating this whole office potluck/gluttony thing to death so I promise this will be the last of it after I recap the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange.
We are now on the eve of the 12th Day of Gluttony and I think everyone is finally ready for it to be over. The whole thing hit a peak/valley Monday when someone actually brought in a bunch of sausage and egg McMuffins. When he walked in with a big McDonald’s bag you could hear an audible murmur rustle through the whole of the building. People emerged from their offices and cubes first to see if it was true, then applaud his ingenuity, and finally to carry him to the gluttony table on their shoulders, singing and dancing all the way. Everyone stood by completely enraptured as he set the McMuffins onto a plate, one by one, stacking them in a pyramid of trans fats and guilt.
But then a strange thing happened – no one ate them. Everyone stood by waiting for someone else to take the plunge but no one did. As it turns out, even the 12 Days of Gluttony has a limit, and that limit is sausage and egg stacked between miniature pancakes. The provider of the bounty just looked on in contempt like that scene in Gladiator when Maximus savagely annihilates his opponents in like 30 seconds flat and the crowd is simply aghast at the brutality of it so Maximus shouts up to them, “Are you not entertained! Are you not entertained!!!” It was almost like everyone was standing around and collectively saying, “Yeah, so the thing about this whole gluttony deal is, we were really all about it until this little McMuffin incident. It just kind of crossed the line a little bit and put everything into perspective, you know?” It’s like when you’re out with your buddies having some drinks and everyone is telling hilarious jokes until your one buddy’s cousin who always tags along with him even though no one likes him busts out the anti-Semitic, homophobic, racist joke about the midget and suddenly the air is sucked out of the room and everyone is just beside themselves with disgust. You didn’t know where the line of decency was until someone crossed it but once it was crossed you just felt gross and guilty for having participated in any of it at all.
As for the gift exchange itself, it wouldn’t have been a real Dirty Santa Gift Exchange without a corresponding office potluck, and it wouldn’t have been an office potluck without a corresponding theme. This year’s theme was (get ready for it): Italian!
Wait – what? The potluck theme for the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange was Italian food?
I know, I know. I can’t explain it. But whatever, we had lasagna, baked ziti, ravioli, garlic bread, bread sticks, pasta salad, salad salad (with Italian dressing)… you name it; if it has ever made an appearance on an Olive Garden menu, we had it at the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange Potluck.
So obviously the two main questions you’re all asking are: 1) What the hell did you bring? And 2) What the hell did the New Kid bring?
Well, I brought bruschetta. I know, totally out of character for me, but really, it was like 4 ingredients, it fit the theme, and of course I only made enough for like 6 people and of course I went through the line last so I could be like, “Oh wow, it looks like the bruschetta is a big hit, there’s hardly any left…” much to the chagrin of Kathy who brought enough Zuppa Toscana for 30, which might as well have been a crock pot full of diarrhea. Good call on bringing soup to a potluck, Kathy. Maybe while you’re eating it for the next 9 days you can think about bringing something people will actually want to eat to the next potluck.
As for the New Kid… well, it was entirely too predictable. Just as expected he was the only person not to put his name on the sign-up list. I was actually going to sign him up to bring 2 liters of wine just to see what he would do but before I could get to the list the admin. who was organizing the potluck came over to him and was like, “I noticed you haven’t signed up on the list… were you planning on bringing anything?” It was the most passive aggressive potluck bitch slap I’ve ever seen.
So, sucking at life as he does, the New Kid went to the store the day of the potluck and bought the first thing he saw… quiche. No shit - he brought a fucking quiche to an Italian themed potluck. As I was the last to pass through the potluck line I watched every person walk down the table and when they all got to the quiche every one of them paused as if they were thinking, “What? Is this what I think it is? Did someone bring a fucking quiche to an Italian themed potluck? Honestly, who would do such a thing?” It was unbelievably gratifying to my passive aggressive sense of humor.
So after we stuffed our faces with carbs and starch we got into the actual gift exchange, and unfortunately for the new kid, it went almost exactly as predicted.
This is what you need to know about an office Dirty Santa Gift Exchange: If you want to bring the bestest, most popular gift, choose one of these – a knife, tools, sports equipment or alcohol. Believe me when I say, do not stray from one of these four items. The most popular gifts at this year’s exchange were two utility knives, a set of 12 screwdrivers, a football and a bottle of vodka. No shit, someone brought a bottle of Absolut and it was more popular than an Erin Andrews peephole videotape.
On the other hand if you want to have the shittiest, most horrible Dirty Santa gift, bring one of these: a picture frame, a giant calculator, a candleholder, or a pack of socks. Believe me, if you want to be the office douchebag, bring one of those gifts.
Whenever someone opens a great gift everyone reacts the same way like, “Oh, that is so cool, I’m totally going to steal that,” and the person who brought the gift will not hesitate to be like, “I totally brought that gift! That one’s mine!” And when a shitty gift comes out, the same thing happens every time – you hear the unmistakable sound of a cricket riding a tumbleweed until a few people muster up the nerve to chuckle awkwardly as everyone is thinking, “Who in the hell brought a giant calculator to the Dirty Santa Gift Exchange?” But no one will take responsibility for a bad gift. You could straight up ask who brought the stupid giant calculator and everyone will just look around the room like, “I don’t know. I have no idea who brought the giant calculator.” Come on assholes, there are 25 people in this room and 25 gifts on this table. Someone brought this stupid fucking giant calculator!!!
This year I actually strayed from the knife/tool/football/alcohol formula again and I was nervous as hell I was going to be one of those assholes looking around the room acting like I didn’t know who brought the stupid gift. Thankfully the good ol’ boy who opened my Army Survival Field Manual absolutely loved it and I was applauded for bringing a great gift. Thankfully.
Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the New Kid. The best part for me was, I knew what his gift was and I knew how it was wrapped, so all I had to do was sit back, kick my feet up, and enjoy the ride on the Disaster Train. The bad part for him was, the two gifts preceding his were a knife and a bottle of alcohol, so the anticipation was high. Worse than that, it was our boss who chose his gift. It was just brilliant to watch him unwrap the gift, acknowledge that it was a dvd and start to laugh out loud in anticipation, obviously thinking to himself, “Oh, it’s a dvd; this will probably be hilarious,” then read the title, stop laughing, cock his head to the side in confusion, and announce to the breathless crowd, “Mission: Impossible I…” But he said it more like a question than a statement like, “Mission: Impossible I???” The whole room was dead silent and I could just read everyone’s collective mind, “Mission? :? Impossible? I??? What the fuck?”
I looked across the table at the New Kid who should have had a look of dejection and embarrassment on his face but instead he just looked confused, like he didn’t understand how Mission: Impossible I could have failed so miserably as a Dirty Santa gift. Honestly dude, you brought a fucking quiche to an Italian themed potluck; how on earth did you think Mission: Impossible I was going to be a hit? Honestly?
Worse than even that, one of the topic’s of conversation prior to the gift exchange as everyone was filling up on lasagna and bread sticks was favorite holiday movies. Christmas Vacation, The Grinch, It’s a Wonderful Life, and wouldn’t you know it, the boss actually announced to the room that his family’s favorite Christmas movie is Elf. As I predicted, all the New Kid had to do was bring Elf and everything would have been okay… but alas, he didn’t and it wasn’t.
It’s at times like that when I wish I had the authority to ground the kid. I want so badly to be like, “You need to go to your room right now and think about what you’ve done and don’t come out until you’re tired of sucking at life.”
I know I sound like a horrible person for letting this kid continue to fall on his face like this as if I’m passive aggressively allowing him to produce fodder for the blog, but the truth of the matter is, I only do it because I used to be that kid. I used to be the one making all the horrible, awkward mistakes and sucking at life and honestly I had to fall on my face a bunch of times before I learned. Yes, I could stop the kid at any point in time, but then he’d never learn. And then we’d all be robbed of the joy that comes with his quiches, and Mission: Impossibles, and BBQ chips and vodka-laced fondue... I could stop all of that if I wanted, but then what would I write about?
I guess I could just tell jokes. Hey, have you heard the one about the black Jewish midget who walks into the gay bar…
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