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Nov. 3rd, 2006 03:37 pmI've just come from a retirement party. I've never actually been to one before, and it's very strange. I didn't think people did these anymore, considering that the average expectancy for any given job these days is what, ten years? But I suppose one has to retire from something.
It was funny, too, because the man who was retiring is an animal tech, working with The Monkeys. This means that he has two social sets -- the other animal techs and admins (like my coworkers and myself) are one, and the Scientists he works with are another. The Scientists gave him a beautifully wrapped box with some lovely remarks about taking your time, obviously a herald to the gift of a pocketwatch. He did not open the box.
The animal techs and admins gave him two packets wrapped in bright silver foil with the offhand remark "we know what your team is", and he immediately set the box down and ripped into the packets, which contained a hat and official jersey of the Washington Redskins (his team, I wager). He could not have been more thrilled if the jersey was gold-plated. And boy would that have been uncomfortable, anyway.
Then we all helped ourselves to the most massive potluck I have ever seen. Seriously, I've been a member of the Anglican and Methodist churches and dated a Lutheran for a while and goddamn, I've never seen a potluck like that. I confined myself to trying only three types of fried chicken out of the six available, and let's not get me started on the preponderance of pasta and dip.
Day six and I have not yet bought a monkey. What's up with that shit?
It was funny, too, because the man who was retiring is an animal tech, working with The Monkeys. This means that he has two social sets -- the other animal techs and admins (like my coworkers and myself) are one, and the Scientists he works with are another. The Scientists gave him a beautifully wrapped box with some lovely remarks about taking your time, obviously a herald to the gift of a pocketwatch. He did not open the box.
The animal techs and admins gave him two packets wrapped in bright silver foil with the offhand remark "we know what your team is", and he immediately set the box down and ripped into the packets, which contained a hat and official jersey of the Washington Redskins (his team, I wager). He could not have been more thrilled if the jersey was gold-plated. And boy would that have been uncomfortable, anyway.
Then we all helped ourselves to the most massive potluck I have ever seen. Seriously, I've been a member of the Anglican and Methodist churches and dated a Lutheran for a while and goddamn, I've never seen a potluck like that. I confined myself to trying only three types of fried chicken out of the six available, and let's not get me started on the preponderance of pasta and dip.
Day six and I have not yet bought a monkey. What's up with that shit?
