A couple of years ago, someone at work decided it would be a good idea to form a Fun Committee. This group, comprised of representatives from various departments in our building, organizes events such as sleigh rides, baseball games, picnics, bowling, a regular blood drive and monthly contests to win a parking spot in the underground garage.
With the exception of the blood drive, I do not participate in Fun Committee events.
Why? Well, maybe I’m just cantankerous. Maybe I hate fun. Or maybe I’m very selective about my leisure time and with whom I spend it. I have my reasons.
Last night, the Fun Committee sponsored an evening at a local bowling alley. I’m told there was karaoke in addition to the bowling. Karaoke inevitably leads to people making spectacles of themselves, especially when (as is usually the case) there is alcohol involved. I’ve heard that the inevitable spectacle occurred, but two of my male co-workers singing “Islands in the Stream” isn’t really what this story is about.
The bowler with the lowest score was given a certificate (as, I’m sure, was the bowler with the highest score). Specifically, the bowler with the lowest score was given the Kris Johnson Award. That’s right, I am so notorious that even when I am not present, my influence is felt.
The recipient of the Kris Johnson Award came to me this morning to have her certificate signed and for the obligatory handshake pictures. She was appropriately awe-struck and deferential, and I was only too happy to sign the certificate. I was somewhat disappointed that the designer of said certificate hadn’t had the foresight to include the appropriate signature line.