Tonight was one of our semi-annual social events for the office staff of Construction Inc. We were invited to enjoy the company's box seats at a local hockey game. As a supervisor, I had to go.
The invite went out more than two months ago (mostly because I made my displeasure about the short notice last time very well-known). Well, my colleagues are flakers. I don't even like hockey that much, but I was going for my free beer(s) and dinner of grease, served with a side of grease (which was delicious, except for the coconut shrimp. I love shrimp, but despise coconut).
So, it was noticed, in our not-anywhere-near capacity crowd of twelve, that I was extremely uncomfortable when a fight broke out. In fact, I couldn't watch it, and had a very compelling need to get more chips and dip at that exact moment.
I was ribbed a little for that, and that's OK. They all know that I'm just Dippy the Hippie working under-cover for the man.
I really blew it, though, during the second fight. The whole crowd was chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" I had to shout as well, because it was a critical moment in the game.
I shouted, "Use your words, boys!"
Yeah. Not gonna live that one down, any time soon.