Dinner with the ex-company

Lots of things probably should have occurred to me before I accepted the invitation to spend last evening at the official office going away party for a former coworker at my former company. Namely:

1. It was a going away party for my former coworker, not me.
   Once I figured that out, I stopped thanking people for coming. You see, I got the invitation and wasn’t sure if I would go. Then Steph (the guest of honor herself) asked me to go because it was also a party for me and my former boss, who got da axe the same day I did. So of course I accepted, and of course I made my ex-boss come as well. But when we got there it seemed that Steph was the only one who thought the party was for us too.
2. When I'm drunk, I have no filter.
   I should have worn a post-it note on my forhead apologizing ahead of time for anything I said to anyone who had a conversation with me. Or maybe just one of those name tag stickers that could have said: "Hello. My name is Cella. I swear to God I'm sad that I don't work with you anymore."
3. There's a very narrow margin of acceptable responses when someone asks "How are you doing?"
   Think about it. Getting laid off isn't good news to most people. But I'd been with the company for eight years! I'm burned out! Time to move on! The only problem is that, in reassuring former coworkers that I'm thrilled about never having to step foot in that soulless office park ever again, I simultaneously insult them and remind them that they still have to work there. I wish I could give some advice about the best thing to say in that situation, but after about fifteen tries last night, I still couldn't get it right.
4. Former coworkers get uncomfortable when they reference something you used to do at the office and you say too loudly, "I can't do that anymore because I GOT FIRED."
   Poor Milly. She was laughing about being tipsy and that I might take her picture and post it on the intranet. All attention was on her, she was basking in the fact that we all "caught her" after an entire glass of wine and was clearly relishing the thought of her rosy cheeks beaming from the home page the next day. Everyone was laughing along with her too, because they all love Milly, and they all love to share a moment of sweet camaraderie with their coworkers when everyone is filled with joy and brimming with good cheer.
   
   That is, they love those moments until someone blurts out, "Don't worry, you're safe. I can't do that anymore because I GOT FIRED." Milly dropped her arm from my shoulders and looked down, most people shuffled their feet or swigged from their glasses and one let out the battle cry, "OhhhhHo!"
   
   I just raised my glass and said, "Cheers. Heh."
5. People aren't sure if they should laugh when you tell the general manager that it's cool of him to pick up the tab and that it's the least he could do, considering he's the one that canned your ass.
   But this isn't as bad as it sounds! I swear! He's got a roughhouse, blue collar sense of humor that appreciates comments that push the edge of social acceptability. In fact, I had said almost the same exact thing in an email to him earlier that week, when I asked him to join an online network of professional associates. He thought it was funny then, and he thought it was funny at the bar. It's just everyone else that thought I was a jackass. But he’s the only one I put down as a reference, so at least I got that going for me.
6. It's sad to say goodbye.
   I worked with most people who were there last night for eight years. Eight years! I've never been anywhere for eight years! These people have seen me grow from being a temp receptionist to a marketing diva. From a fresh-faced college grad to a seasoned (albeit slightly jaded) professional. From a young girl, scrawny from a recent bout of dysentery picked up in India, to a mature older woman who plumped right the frig up! I'm really going to miss 'em.

All said and done, it was a splendid event. Even if I wasn't officially one of the guests of honor, I still got to bid farewell to some good friends and a free meal. I was able to reassure Steph that life after da axe, whether you choose it for yourself or not, is fine just fine.

If nothing else, it was a heckofa reason to shower and leave the house.