Happy F#$%@ing Holidays!!

For several years now, I've been running the school faculty holiday party. Every year, I get driven batty by the same old crap.

The people who don't pay but show up anyway, thus creating an awkward "Hey, sorry to interrupt your meal, but can you please pay up?" moment.

The people who bitch endlessly because no matter what I do, it isn't goo enough.

The people who claim, at the time of the party, that everything is great, but who go home and call the restaurant and complain about the paltry quantities of food in order to have a meal comped at a future visit.

Last year, after I engaged in a six-block foot pursuit (in three inch heels) of a woman who showed up and never paid, I swore I was done planning the holiday parties.

And then, a few weeks ago, my principal, who I like a great deal, asked me if I would plan the party again. In a moment of weakness, I consented.

Things have been going OK so far. Of course, the final payment is due tomorrow and I have over half the staff who have not even acknowledged the fact. This in spite of my mass emails, multiple photocopied notices stuffed in mailboxes and thrown across every inch of the staff room. This in spite of the fact that I keep stressing the fact that, because the party is catered this year, final numbers cannot be tweaked at the end. More money can't simply be thrown at a restaurant chef to throw on an extra try of chicken, ziti and broccoli. I keep telling these people that I'm meeting with the catering staff tomorrow, and giving them final numbers and payments. Has this prompted people into payment action? No siree.

I don't even really give a shit about all that.

A few days ago, a couple of women whom I have lunch with, asked me if, instead of getting a sheet cake, I would ask people if they'd be willing to bake desserts. I said, right up front, that I knew this would give rise to endless complaints from the staff. After all, in all fairness, they have paid money to attend the party already and they could argue that dessert should be included, and this is a difficult time of year to expect people to throw more "to do" items on their cooking lists.

But, in an attempt to continue being democratic (for up to this point, I have given people the option of two restaurants from which to choose, and held meetings in my room about menu selection...attended, mind you, by NOBODY!!), I sent out another email about the desserts.

Christ, I don't think the authors of the Geneva Convention were more mindful of wording and the general impact of language than I was in this email. I basically acknowledged the abovementioned concerns (already paid, busy time of year, etc.) and said that the idea of bringing home made desserts was not mine, but rather had been proposed to me by several of our colleagues. I said that I would leave a dessert sign-up sheet in the staff room, and if, by Friday afternoon, there were no/not enough volunteers to bake desserts, I would quite happily order a cake. I stressed that nobody would be required to bake, and that nobody would be expected to bake enough for the entire staff, but rather one batch of whatever they do best.

Again, I stressed the importance of not wanting anybody to feel obligated, and my general flexible nature in the whole thing.

Well, wouldn't you know, word got to me today that the entire first and second grade faculty were, during their common lunch shift, kicking the shit out of me. I didn't even care about maintaining professional decorum. I immediately went to them after school and asked them to give voice to their concerns to me, rather than behind my back. They started laying into me. No sooner had they begun than I pulled up the email I had sent Sunday night and that NOT ONE OF THEM HAD READ IN SPITE OF BEING TOLD BY OUR PRINCIPAL TO CHECK WORK EAMIL DAILY.

As you can imagine, they felt like assholes.

I honestly think I'm going to be there for the food delivery that day, make sure the person is paid, help in the setup, and then fucking retreat to my classroom.

Screw this crap.

And as far as being caught in a moment of weakness when asked next year if I'll run the party...

NO F'n Way.

Oh, and as I reminded those ladies, not one of them offered to help me plan and not one of them came to my room for any of the meetings I attempted to convene.

If they had so much to say, I reminded them, they had been afforded plenty of opportunity, and chose not to take it.