Christmas at the Office

This is my dreaded time of year. It is such a pain to always explain why I am opting out of X, because no one is just happy with my initial response of "no, that's ok, thank you, though." There's a lot of bewilderment and some sputtering. No one expects someone to say no to participating in some holiday activity. It is just so unbelievably upsetting for them! I've gone and ruined Christmas. Shame on me. So, no, I will not be helping with putting up a tree and dressing it. I will not be organizing a secret Santa nor participating in one that gets organized by someone else. Same goes with White Elephants and Exchange Hilarious Junk To Each Other. There is no way you'll get me to join in the company-wide reception to mingle with a lot of people I don't know and natter on about what I won't be doing for Christmas, and that I don't even acknowledge it as any other day that isn't my birthday, anniversary or Chicken Day.

I got an email at work seeking volunteers to go around the building caroling. SERIOUSLY? Caroling? What fucking adult would willingly go around a 10-story office building singing holiday songs? There was even mention of someone in a Santa costume. I want to make clear that I do not work in a building with children. In fact, most of the employees are middle-aged; though, they are the type who are prone to wearing scary holiday sweaters and vests.

Like these:





And my favorite:



It's like working with a bunch of kindergarten teachers. I did find out that there is a work policy that I am not allowed to give any of my superiors a gift, which is great. How nice of the company to get me off that hook so easily. I do relish the moment when Twit and Ex-cop attempt to get me involved in something Christmas-related; I will relish telling them, "No thank you, I'm an atheist!" Back off, bitches.

In other news:

Yesterday, Ex-cop brought in oatmeal cookies that his wife made. He asked if he could put the tin on my desk. Feeling generous, I said ok. He made a sign and taped it to the tin. Of course every one came by and asked me if I made those cookies. I sweetly said, "no" each time. Then I actually looked at the sign, which said," Oatmeal Cookie's, Take One!" I am absolutely insulted that people thought those cookies were made by me, especially after reading that sign. Just call me Oatmeal Cookie from here on out--that's my granola-slut persona.