Happy Hour.

'Happy'.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Not.

Or only if :

1. You drink. And like drinking. A lot.
2. You smoke. And like smoking. A lot.
3. You eat. And like eating. Too much.
4. You like talking. Acutely aware that this is such a great opportunity to make contacts for
a. Promotion
b. Doing work

They tell me it's like this in the working world.

*blanch*

I can't stand it. I don't drink. (Except the Communion Wine, and I think it's actually grape juice.) They claim that you're not a man unless you do. And if you're really a man, you'll get really red and say and do things you wouldn't be caught dead doing sober.

Apparently it's all part of good fun. Being "happy". *hic*

Crap.

Sure. Alchohol loosens things up, gets people friendlier. What's wrong with that.

Nothing, absolutely nothing. By all means, carry on! Just pardon me for not craving such "happiness".

So, surrounded by bigwigs stuffing themselves/drowning in beer/sucking on cigs/guffawing their heads off, I was honoured to be at the Happy Hour.

My happiest time was playing table tennis for 10 minutes with a guy who was dragged down to serve the aforesaid bigwigs, clear plates and stuff like that. That rocked. I was happy.

Then there was a few minutes where a sober colleague was attempting to teach my psycho-motor impaired self the basic rock beat. Those were pretty challenging minutes.

Then there was the several hours of politely hanging around to populate the event while trying to avoid situations that called for drinking out of courtesy/protocol/threat of punishment.

Ahhh. That was the life.

Still, the highlight must have been when the Big Head (read in Hokkien) sat down at the table and wanted to toast.

I had Sprite in my cup. Until my superior fed it to the thirsty bushes behind him in a well-aimed toss.

So, cup containing the regulation drink, his beer mug touched my quivering plastic cup.

"Cheers."

Fortunately, he had other people to "Cheers." with, and one's eyes can only properly focus on the beer mug's bottom whilst drinking a "bottoms-up".

Hence, less evaporation, the volume of beer in my cup stayed constant.

I realise that in most societies, that would be seen as an extreme affront to the host, let alone a superior.

Still.

HA. HA. HA.

So while the political manoeuvring and wheedling and horrendous bawling (did I mention the karaoke?) was going on, I was having my crappy hour.

Wheeee.