Why, oh why, did I answer the phone? When I came home Wednesday night I saw that I'd missed a call from my boss, and I knew there were only two reasons she might be calling: 1)something super important has happened and I must be informed (revolution, earthquake, etc.) or 2) she's inviting me to another staff party.
I'd deftly avoided previous engagements. I, ahem, forgot completely about my invitation to the first dinner party, and I, ahem, was sick the day of the end of term school-wide party and couldn't make it in. But when she called back a few minutes later, I, dumbass that I am, answered. Who knew? #1 could've been the reason.
It wasn't. And I couldn't say no again. So I agreed to attend the department farewell dinner the following day. Which was last night.
There's a reason I hate attending these sorts of things, because I know exactly how they'll go. And last night was exactly as I expected.
I'm seated at a table with a bunch of Chinese teachers with whom I've shared an office for four months of minimal social interaction. They're chatting away gaily in Chinese. I'm alternating between taking bites of the fatty slabs of meat circulated around the table on the lazy susan and sipping my awful Great Wall red wine. Someone from another table, half-drunk, comes to ours and toasts our health and the new year. Everyone stands up, clinks glasses together, something is said in Chinese, and we sit down. Back to the awful food and awful wine. No, wait, here comes some more awful company! Everyone stands up again, toasts the gathered company, and sits again. Repeat repeat repeat.
After two hours I excused myself. Well, I didn't make an excuse, I just got up, said happy new year, and left. I must remember not to answer the phone.
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