Sociable measures
Just one more proof that I am older, if not any wiser, is that I no longer jump to attention when someone shouts out that it’s “party time”. There was a time that I couldn’t have resisted such an appeal. I even had a particular style of literary occasion named in my honour; and it was an honour. Thank you to all who participated; you know who you are.
At this part in my life continuum, the cry is one that arises first in the workplace. I am able to ignore it with a cool demeanor that would have seemed impossible in other times. In fact, the imaginary whistle at the end of the shift sends me homeward with an intensity rarely witnessed outside of a pigeon colony. No more the roving way for me.
It appears I am not alone. This afternoon a memo was left on our desks, to announce that the announced social club activity for later in the day had been cancelled, due to lack of interest. Statisically, less than half of the clientele had even bothered to respond as to an intention to not attend.
Apathy? Perhaps. Myself, I feel it simply reflects the change in interest in “our age group”. The majority of the office staff are now firmly entrenched in family mode, and the detour to a watering hole before heading home to the nest is perceived as an added burden. We simply have other things to do.
Should the social committee resign in protest? No, because the rest would not even notice; that is called adding insult to injury.
