because anything faster is slightly nauseating. Now, a big part of being unemployed is networking. Basically, you meet people, talk to them and then hope they’ll give you a job. Sort of. See, networking is all about the social aspect. Jobs go to friends, not to strangers. Now, you’re just meeting these people, and there are like a hundred of them. How will you all become forever friends? That’s a lot of people to meet! Furthermore, everyone is trying to meet everyone else and the initial pleasantries (name, job, etc) need be repeated for each interaction. While it’s certainly interesting to hear about each new person you’re meeting, by the end you’ve said the same things about yourself literally a hundred times. Goddammit. If only there was someway to grease these social wheels. A lubricant, if you will, to ameliorate the nervousness of meeting new people, breed camaraderie and make the repetition just fuzzy enough that you don’t mind. Thus:
Lots of it sometimes. I was not really prepared for that fact. I recall appraising the room when I first arrived at yesterday’s networking event:
“Hmm, seems to be a lot of people with wine. That’s cool, I wonder how much it costs. Wait, free? Like, these four tables with various winemakers all offering samples of their wares for free, free? Well fuck.”
Then, as one of the excellent speakers was concluding. Did I mention there were presentations? I haven’t been to a lot of these, but I’m given to understand that presentations are often a formality. The particular event I attended had a great deal of them, however and they were quite good.
Where was I? Oh yes. So, the last speaker had concluded, we were all happily networking away when the MC took the mic to conclude the event.
“*Guests thanked for attending, speakers thanked for presenting, wineries thanked for providing libations* And don’t forget our sponsor, Maker’s Mark, who provided the ample supply. Please, if you haven’t had some, grab a glass before you go.”
Now, I should clarify two things before I discuss my reaction. One, I have only been drinking whiskey for perhaps three months. Two, I prefer Jameson.
Still, what the what? Free Maker’s is having a family fun center with a poorly chained bear, it’s only a matter of time before things go hilariously wrong. No one wants to be the one on the phone with 911 who can’t get out “It’s like revenge whack-a-mole” because of the giggles. I had two.
At that point I officially got to be the “Guy who is drunk, but is aware of being drunk and helpless to do anything about it.” guy. Everywhere I was greeted by the rueful head shake. The one that says, “I see you will be both entertaining and offensive tonight.” I believe they wrote a song about it, I think the lyric goes:
“Ain’t no party like a ‘no brain filter party’ because a ‘no brain filter party’ fuck your mother with a rake.”
I spoke passionately about pointless shit. I greeted people I had barely met with ribald humor. I taxed the patience of friends and strangers alike.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that whiskey sodas are delicious, and that I can never have them again.