Hello all, good wishes, and apologies for the shouty capitals in the title, especially as I have moaned about them before.
I hereby swear that I will NOT take on the responsibility for organising the work Christmas "do" next year, having done it for the third time.
First, there is the hassle of having to chase people to find out of they are actually coming. I would like to point out that the meals are paid for by the company.
I start by putting a large printed notice in a prominent position, in the kichen, a place where you think most people would see it.
It states the date, location and politely asks those who would like to come to put their name and any special dietary requirements (vegetarian,vegan, gluten intolerant, allergic to days of the week with an "e" in them etc. ok, so I may have made that last bit up.)
So despite this having been in place for over 2 weeks, I still have to go round asking people. "Oh, I didn't see it (it's in front size 36, and on the front of the fridge) I'll need to check my diary/ask my wife/partner/concubine"
Eventually I find out how many will be in the party and contact the restaurant to confirm numbers.
Then I contact them again to change the number, because someone has realised that the date doesn't after all clash with the Christmas do for their choir/darts team/folk music club/navel gazing society.
After a "final" check, I contact the restaurant again as someone has just remembered that the date in question is the graduation ceremony for their pole dancing course (ok, I might have made that up)
So, into the home straight, all looking good. I get a quote from a local taxi company, negotiating a good rate, based on 4 people to a car. Another notice goes on the fridge, followed by another round purchasing up for numbers.
Transpires that everyone has sorted out car shares, leaving muggins and one other person as the only ones needing to pay for a cab!
Then, at almost last knockings, numbers change again because "It looks like the dog might have a hernia" And no, I am NOT making that up!
So, sod it, next year they can have a packet of crisps and a bottle of pop in the art room and bloody well lump it!
Mental health worry in grandchild