One of my workies has been badgering us for days to organise a 'social event' for our team. In order to establish what fun activity we could partake in, she decided to round us all up for an after-work drink in the company bar. Great.
The company bar is basically part of the canteen, with the bar side opening at 5:00 PM and the lingering smell of fried food and cabbage leftover from lunchtime.
Oh man. I won't even attempt to bore you with the conversations around the table. Just to give you an idea, a well spoken, MA-educated lady colleague was moaning that 'The Guardian is sooo middle-class' in a really really affected, truly excruciating annoying way. You get the idea.
No, the best bit was when they were throwing around ideas for the 'fun team event'. It started badly, with the usual mentioning of bowling; then improved slightly by a visit to one of the local arts festival comedy shows (crap but better than bowling). Then, a trip to the dogs' track was mentioned. DOGS TRACK? As if I want to see psychotic animals trained to run after a pretend rabbit? But it got worse. Oh yes. It got much worse.
The idea that seemed to be the most popular was...wait for it...
MACKAREL FISHING. I repeat. MACKAREL FISHING.
What the fuck? You want me to go KILL FISH for workie fun?
Trying to exercise as much self-control as I was capable of, I managed to be diplomatic and tactfully but firmly point out that under no circumstances I am getting involved in animal cruelty for their stupid, retarded, demented, pointless, pathetic, ridiculous, risible, laughable and above all, David Brent/Michael Scott-like team building activities. 
I was reading your 'Humourless' post & thinking how similar your situation is to my better half's, when I then read this post & realised that you are actually in a far worse position. I hope you get out soon.
If you don't mind, I'll have to mail this to my wife so that she knows that she is not alone in the world.
Posted by: Greg | 07 May 2009 at 12:28 PM