Thanksgiving - Take II
The celebrations continued 3 nights later with my (Greer) work dinner - was loads of fun. We were wined and dined by our supervisors and were all given prizes. We at the Reservations Centre don't work on commission, so work dinners are used to recognise staff for highest sales etc. After 15 mins of some serious prizes being awarded (e.g. winter gear, skis, snowboard, ipod...) I started to question the merits of being Bargaining Betty with my clients - I always spend heaps of time with them working out the best deal for them - how they can make the most of their time here without spending all their $$$ - anyway - the 'awards' ended, and I was still prizeles...
That is, until they started the old 'random name draw out of a paper bag'. The supervisors put a TON of prizes on top of a bench, the idea being that the person whose name was read could approach the bench and pick their prize.
Oh yeah baby, I was SOOOO pumped to win a serious prize. It was MY turn!!! My breath was held as they pulled the first name out......... "Stacey!".......... rats........... ok ok......... bring it on......... this time yeah yeah......... "Nicholas!" .......... Ratz!........... it's cool it's cool.......... this time it's me... this time it's me..... "Emily!" ........ come on man come on!!! .......... "Jason!".......... ok ok ok, this time this time for real!!! ........... "Natalie!" ...........
And so it continued, until half the people had claimed their prize (there were about 40 of us). I started to give up hope, and took a long sip of my white wine.... Ahhhh... the let-down was unbelievable.....
It was only 7 minutes later, when they were still calling names, that it dawned on me, that in fact, because we are a 'team-focused' company, everyone was going to win a prize! My spirits lifted, I started scowering the bench top, working out which of the few remaining prize I wanted... And so I scowered... scowered.... scowered... I would pick something, sure enough a name was called, and sure enough the person would take the one I wanted!
When my name was FINALLY called, I put my hand in the bag to call out one of the other unfortunate souls who had been left to last when I realised I was, in fact, the second last person, and there was only one other name!
I called it out, and headed to the bench - I picked the only cool thing left, a white belt - I had been needing a new one so I grabbed it, my mood had suddenly picked back up.
And THEN, the girl who was last, approaches the table, scowers the array of crap prizes and then looks at me, dead in the eye, and says, "Oh, are you having the belt?"
I said, "Um... yeah".
She said, "Oh... can I have it and you can have the bag??".
And I - yes... I I I - there is no-one else to blame... said YES!!!
Why did I do it!!! Before I knew what had happened my 'not wanting to be mean and say no' had left me beltless and in my hands I held a blue bag with an inscription on it, "The Pique".
The Pique is the local newspaper. In other words, it's the equivalent of going to a dinner for one of the world's top ski resort destination (which WhistlerBlackcomb is), having the chance to win an array of kick-but WhistlerBlackcomb gear and walking away with a "Sunday Tasmanian" bright blue bag.
To make things even better, the bag was made for the 10 year anniversary of The Pique, which was celelbrated in 2004.
It is therefore the equivalent of walking away with a "Sunday Tasmanian 1994-2004" bright blue bag, in the year 2006.
Now I don't mean to be Complaining Cassandra, I really don't - but it was quite an emotional rollercoaster for me. I have since discovered the my bag is actually the perfect grocery bag, so have resolved myself to the fact that it was in fact, THE best prize, that it kicks arse over any of the other rad gear that other people got, and that I am in fact, the envy of my fellow co-workers. Poor things - I hope they don't take it out on my personally, I mean, it's not my fault that I won the BEST prize, it's just that things went my way on that fateful evening...
We celebrated my winnings with a serious boogie at a couple of the clubs here. Marilyn, my rockstar French-Canadian work mate & I rocked the house - hadn't been out dancing with a girlfriend for ages so was really really fun. Good times I say good times.
That is, until they started the old 'random name draw out of a paper bag'. The supervisors put a TON of prizes on top of a bench, the idea being that the person whose name was read could approach the bench and pick their prize.
Oh yeah baby, I was SOOOO pumped to win a serious prize. It was MY turn!!! My breath was held as they pulled the first name out......... "Stacey!".......... rats........... ok ok......... bring it on......... this time yeah yeah......... "Nicholas!" .......... Ratz!........... it's cool it's cool.......... this time it's me... this time it's me..... "Emily!" ........ come on man come on!!! .......... "Jason!".......... ok ok ok, this time this time for real!!! ........... "Natalie!" ...........
And so it continued, until half the people had claimed their prize (there were about 40 of us). I started to give up hope, and took a long sip of my white wine.... Ahhhh... the let-down was unbelievable.....
It was only 7 minutes later, when they were still calling names, that it dawned on me, that in fact, because we are a 'team-focused' company, everyone was going to win a prize! My spirits lifted, I started scowering the bench top, working out which of the few remaining prize I wanted... And so I scowered... scowered.... scowered... I would pick something, sure enough a name was called, and sure enough the person would take the one I wanted!
When my name was FINALLY called, I put my hand in the bag to call out one of the other unfortunate souls who had been left to last when I realised I was, in fact, the second last person, and there was only one other name!
I called it out, and headed to the bench - I picked the only cool thing left, a white belt - I had been needing a new one so I grabbed it, my mood had suddenly picked back up.
And THEN, the girl who was last, approaches the table, scowers the array of crap prizes and then looks at me, dead in the eye, and says, "Oh, are you having the belt?"
I said, "Um... yeah".
She said, "Oh... can I have it and you can have the bag??".
And I - yes... I I I - there is no-one else to blame... said YES!!!
Why did I do it!!! Before I knew what had happened my 'not wanting to be mean and say no' had left me beltless and in my hands I held a blue bag with an inscription on it, "The Pique".
The Pique is the local newspaper. In other words, it's the equivalent of going to a dinner for one of the world's top ski resort destination (which WhistlerBlackcomb is), having the chance to win an array of kick-but WhistlerBlackcomb gear and walking away with a "Sunday Tasmanian" bright blue bag.
To make things even better, the bag was made for the 10 year anniversary of The Pique, which was celelbrated in 2004.
It is therefore the equivalent of walking away with a "Sunday Tasmanian 1994-2004" bright blue bag, in the year 2006.
Now I don't mean to be Complaining Cassandra, I really don't - but it was quite an emotional rollercoaster for me. I have since discovered the my bag is actually the perfect grocery bag, so have resolved myself to the fact that it was in fact, THE best prize, that it kicks arse over any of the other rad gear that other people got, and that I am in fact, the envy of my fellow co-workers. Poor things - I hope they don't take it out on my personally, I mean, it's not my fault that I won the BEST prize, it's just that things went my way on that fateful evening...
We celebrated my winnings with a serious boogie at a couple of the clubs here. Marilyn, my rockstar French-Canadian work mate & I rocked the house - hadn't been out dancing with a girlfriend for ages so was really really fun. Good times I say good times.
posted by Greer at 9:05 am
1 Comments:
bummer about the bag, Sunday Tasmanian is a classic. I would have slapped the bietch down
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