My Facebook and Instagram feeds are incredibly boring during May, unless one defines excitement as scrolling through endless photos, accompanied by self-aggrandizing comments about graduations, proms and retirement parties.
Every one of my Facebook friends with a high school or college graduate always makes sure to inform me that their son or daughter’s diploma included some unpronounceable Latin phrase like, “cum laude” or points out their child’s mortarboard tassel was a different color because they received an award only they were nominated for. Just once I’d like to see a photo of a grad walking across the stage with a caption that reads, “Congrats to my son, who graduated pessimi (Latin for “the worst”) with a D-minus average! Still, your mother and I remain fortis in arduis (strong in difficulties).”
The prom photos are slightly less nauseating; most simply feature teen boys in hastily rented tuxedos linking arms with girls whose expressions ask, “When can I remove these shoes?” Some couples opt for uniquely colored prom ensembles, say, an olive-green tuxedo paired with a Kelly-green gown. But, unlike graduation, these assemblages don’t represent academic distinction; rather, bad fashion choices.
Finally, I see pics of the retiring office worker, standing in front of the cubicle he or she has occupied for 20 plus years. Today, however, it’s adorned in streamers and balloons and surrounded by smiling co-workers, one holding a “Congratulations!” sign. Yes, soon to be retired person, this is a joyful day. But for reasons you probably didn’t expect. Just ask any employee at MMI Engineered Solutions.
Earlier this month, during a going away party for an employee at the Saline, Mich.-based firm, a co-worker confessed to baking laxatives into the brownies she contributed to the festivities. The worker was fired before the retiree, or anybody else, consumed the treats and no charges were filed, though police were called. A subsequent investigation revealed the retiree and the “baker” had an ongoing feud.
Being self-employed, I will never be the guest of honor at a retirement party unless I choose to gift myself with bagels and take selfies in front of my computer on the day I literally quit my day job forever. And I’m OK with that. I don’t believe anyone would agree to be feted with a party upon their final workday if they stopped to consider what a retirement party really is: namely, a chance to celebrate the fact that you, the guest of honor, are leaving. FOREVER!
Think about it. On your “special day,” your fellow co-workers will arrive at the office, loaded down with baked, hopefully laxative-free, treats. They will attach helium balloons to office plants. They will stop work for at least 30 minutes while they praise you in song and kind words.
Now ask yourself: Why is everyone so festive and happy today? Because tomorrow, you will be gone! Pop the Champagne, everyone!
On Monday, they will arrive for work and not give a second thought to the fact that there is no longer any trace of you. If anything, they will be grateful they no longer must smell whatever it is you packed for lunch every day. Your shelf life has expired faster than the contents of the office refrigerator. Such is the nature of corporate America.
I share a similar disdain for office Christmas parties. It’s one thing to stop work on a Friday afternoon and eat Santa-shaped cookies in the lobby. But a formal party at a banquet hall on a Saturday evening during the hectic holiday season? No thanks. I, for one, have better things to do with my weekend than spend it hanging out with the same people I see Monday through Friday. Let’s call a Christmas party what it truly is: overtime with liquor.
So, retiring worker, for your own good, nix your retirement party. On your last day, take your stapler, your paper clip dispenser and your cat calendar, and exit quietly. If your co-workers insist, pose for a few pictures; but make it quick.
And for heaven’s sake, stay away from the brownies.
