The Plant was Dying Anyway...

Each Tuesday I will be posting a short story of an event that has occurred in my working career that may be memorable, embarrassing, or offensive in nature. This event took place in the fall of 2004.

I had been working for nearly three months as an office manager at a commercial real estate company that built and operated malls throughout the country. The work was fairly mundane although I enjoyed the camaraderie I shared with the rest of my staff, and even though the pay was terrible, I was only 23 and didn't know any better. One day a manager approached my desk and informed me that I would be accompanying a group of 30 other employees to the opening of a new mall in Pennsylvania. The trip meant staying in a hotel for two weeks and working from 8am-8pm every single day. You're probably saying to yourself, "Wow, that sounds terrible, you had to go to Pennsylvania???". Yea, I know, it was rough.

Well it turns out that this is an amazing opportunity with our organization, and there is actually a ton of fun to be had on these trips. I discovered this when I arrived to the hotel at 7pm, ready to get a good night sleep before our first big day, and the majority of the staff was already piss drunk. Let's just say I caught up quick.

I was a bad drunk those days, desperate to impress people with the amount of liquor I could consume, along with a tendency to urinate in public areas. Also, the ladies loved me. But in the same way they love a three week old baby that pukes on itself. Not the kind of love I was looking for. Let's just say I was young, dumb, and full of ... energy. They were good times.

I awoke the first morning of the two week stretch completely naked on my hotel room floor, aside from my socks and a stinging migraine. For some reason I assumed that it was around 6am, and without even looking at the alarm clock, I ventured into the shower. The entire group was meeting in the lobby to take a bus to the mall at 7:30am, but I figured I'd get an early start and a fresh cup of joe. After exiting the bathroom, my eye caught the alarm clock....9:30am. Oh Jesus.

This trip is a privilege, one that everyone must take seriously while at the mall, or you get sent packing. The group is run by the Wench-Woman (W.W.), a stocky broad around the age of 40, who may or may not have been asexual due to the fact that I'm sure no one could ever love her. Or so I had heard from my peers. I hadn't had the pleasure in making her acquaintance yet.

I threw on some clothes, headed down to the lobby, and hailed a cab to the mall site. The time was now 10:30am. Without even thinking about it I ran out of the cab and made my way into main area of the mall where our team was meeting. This was a bad idea.

There are times in our lives that embarrassment isn't the correct term to describe how you feel during an event. Everything in your body cringes, and most of your brain shuts down completely. You can't talk, walk, or justify yourself with any congruent argument. You are, plain and simple, screwed. This was the epitome of that feeling, for when I opened the door I walked directly into our post-breakfast team meeting. W.W. was midway through a Stalinesque speech of how this is her final mall opening and she won't stand for any slacking, talking back, or tardiness. Unfortunately, the door made a bit too much noise and everyone turned in my direction.

W.W. immediately raised her voice. "You must be Steve."
"Yea, I think so." I responded.

My knees buckled as I walked to the only empty seat among my peers, many of whom were chuckling at me and pointing. I assumed this was because of my late arrival, but boy was I wrong.

W.W. continued, "Normally I would be asking you to pack your bags but I feel that after the stunts you pulled last night, you'll be working extra hard these next few weeks. Plus, I assume that you won't be getting into any more trouble. Am I correct on my assumption?"

"Yes ma'am. My apologies for being late."

My stomach dropped. What the hell had I done last night, and how had she found out about it when I don't remember seeing her at the hotel bar? After the meeting ended I ran over to Cindy, one of the only coworkers I was friends with prior to the trip.

She explained that around the hour of 2am I had dropped my pants and pissed on a plant in the lobby of the hotel. Immediately after I relieved myself I seemingly passed out next to the plant with most of my body lying in my own urine. After the group took numerous pictures of me half naked in my own filth, they carried me to my bedroom and laid me outside the door. Cindy found the room key in my pocket, dragged me in by my feet, and generously took off my pee stained shirt and pants and left me on the floor. This explains why my socks were still on, I guess.

For some reason these 'friends' of mine told the W.W. what had occurred the night before when I was found absent during the morning roll call. W.W. actually told me days later that she was impressed I even made it to work at all after she had seen the photos.

The rest of the two weeks were obviously miserable. I felt guilty and refused to get bombed every night with the crew, but could sometimes hear them heartily laughing until all hours of the night, most likely at my expense. Although, being the office manager gave me plenty of opportunities for revenge when we returned to the corporate office. For instance, when the guy who actually took the pictures, Bob Askins, asked for new business cards a few months later, he received an entire box with the name Bob Douchebag printed instead. But that's a whooooole different story....