Meet Bartles, Meet Jaymes
The first thing she learned from High School Driver’s Ed class converted to a solid life rule: Consume only 1 alcoholic drink per hour to stay under the legal limit.
So why then, would she subject herself to consuming alcohol on a late Friday afternoon, before leaving the office, potentially delaying her departure? Why would she want to stay even 1 hour more after 45, 50, or 60+ hours already worked that week?
A roar approached down the concrete hallway: Glass clinking glass, a vibrating rumble, excited voices. The front desk admins wheeled white plastic coolers to the gathering points, filled to the brim with ice and long necks. By week, these single-serve adult treats hid under lock and key in a storage closet. But on Friday, they came out with gusto.
Back to her dilemma – to drink or escape – the path remained clear based on the irrefutable facts of alcohol metabolism. To other workers, the alcoholic appeasement kept them pliant to continue working long hours week after week.
But a new life lesson emerged, creating a push-and-pull in her logic. It’s a good thing to not just meet Bartles & Jaymes, but also to meet and socialize with coworkers, right?
Perhaps if she joined the throngs of colleagues, she might find them collecting in specific areas of their warehouse office. Like all premier digital agencies of the early 2000’s, there was no shortage of uniquely designed spaces. The uncommon locales for consulting life included the “Front Deck”, a quirky area constructed inside the building, complete with hammock, beach umbrella and picnic tables. The more staid “Back Deck” stood outside, consisting simply of unstained wood perched behind the building, with more picnic tables and grills. The company clearly knew how to utilize raw, untreated 2x4s, featuring them heavily on the decks and zen garden.
Fearing a social faux pas, she resolved to make an appearance at the corporate Happy Hour. After the utopia, however, she found most coworker interactions slightly disappointing. She found herself surrounded by the young and vibrant, but also the relatively less friendly. The environment remained competitive. She understood, given many others lived through the “dot-com boom and bust” like she did. Since then, a somewhat jaded attitude bubbled just under everyone’s surface.
Swiping a frou frou wine cooler from the massive vat of beers, she wandered through distant memories of warm, keg beer at a friend’s party. Almost instantly, the same putrid, sweet scent swirled and stuck in her nose, wafting from nearby drinkers. Ick, beer was just not for her. Nor really was the silly Bartles & Jaymes in her hand, but why not give the impression of sociability?
After a few brief moments of social interaction, the wine cooler remained lidded, and followed her home. It proceeded to reside in the far corners of her fridge for years in the hopes that a future house guest would enjoy it.
Maybe if more time was given to the Happy Hour, the story ahead might have unfolded differently. As it was, it took years for social acumen to build in this “not particularly social” introvert. Yet, later years revealed a dynamic shift, both in herself and those around her: from competition to a sense of kind acquaintance and deep teamwork.
But she could not imagine nor foresee any such shift, in that fleeting, inconsequential moment.
If only one lesson is gained from this little story, consider this: Follow your socially awkward side. You need not feel obligated to attend that Happy Hour today. You just might find some success in life simply by keeping the alcohol consumption down.
As always, I hope you enjoyed this and it brightened your day.
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