12 p.m. — I drive to the fancy restaurant where the holiday party is held. We’ve been doing the holiday party at this restaurant for the past three years, and while it’s pretty and expensive (the servers wear leather aprons!), the food doesn’t actually taste that great. However, it’s all paid for by the organization, so I don’t complain as I load up on the appetizers — lobster guacamole, fried duck wontons, and loaded potato croquettes with sriracha mayo. There’s also a lot of alcohol, and I get a glass of a red blend from the server. I find my co-worker, V., and we join two other co-workers I don’t usually talk to, A. and B. (both he/him pronouns). We end up talking about B.’s boss and the previous people that filled his role. After a bit, lunch is served — beef tenderloin tips, brick pressed roasted chicken, and creamy vegetable gnocchi with chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream for dessert. There’s leftovers, already boxed up, and I take the guac and brick pressed chicken home.
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