The best Part Of All

Vicki left last month but due to time conflicts her farewell lunch was today. The office shut down and we trooped across the street to an asian restaurant liked by many of the staff. There was an excitement rippling through the office all morning “field trip” when I was in school. Work was getting done but just barely and when Vicki arrived about a half hour before the targeted time all work ceased and everyone seemed and visited with the leaving/ left work mate. What I thought was kind of awkward the “new guy” had already moved into Vicki’s old office looking like he had been there for ever. The guy opted out for lunch indicated her already had a lunch engagement.

I never have been good at office social functions: Small pieces of time when the office comes together usually round a separation of one office mate, for one reason or another, from the rest of the group. The little cliques quickly pull together and grab chairs next to each other round the table. The boss sits next the leaving workmate and I always just sit where I can under the table. Like today they restaurant had their “accessible entrance” locked and everyone was well seated by the time I finally got into the restaurant.

The separation lunch is a living wake (in Utah) without the booze, thankfully. A little booze at something like this( I think)could be lethal. As it is, there are stories of “remember when” or “were you here when we did this or that” ; forced laughs and side long glances and half smiles of people who remember, or wish they could forget, the whole story. The person leaving today had been at this agency, like me, through three directors. She and I had actually met while taking part in a year long consumer training program. We’re fairly close probably the staff I would feel most comfortable adjusting my clothes after being trapped in the bathroom. She is the mom of two pretty severely disabled kids, she has been ion the political trenches and is a good advocate and understands the issues of folks with significant disabilities. I am friendly with her husband an if I need help I would go to Vicki.

The hour for lunch passed quickly and the silences were becoming more and more uncomfortable. I had already backed away from the table and put on my red jacket and was doing the power wheelchair users equivalent to pacing, the continual pushing of my joystick to where it would make a loud “click” when it electronically engaged and then disengage it quickly before the chair would move, indicating my anticipation to get back to my office. Promises were made to stay in contact, lunches promised but no dates set and distant hugs thrown out like soldiers searching for landmines, accompanied by self-conscience smiles.

The really unique part about these events and this office is a that the boss actually picks up the check at the end of the lunch and that is the best part of all.