Scattered

A little over a year ago, a happy hour was a big event at my old job. I'd occasionally hear stories through the grapevine, and eventually started getting invited and seeing for myself what people had talked about for years. There were songs, jokes, shots, and general merriment. It was always an adventure, and I'd attain stories I'd retain for life. The problems and challenges of the week were made light of and cast aside.

It's been a fast and strange 2007, and the changes at my old job disrupted an established social structure that glued people to a second family. Some thought they'd never leave, while others who did leave eventually returned or planned to. It was college all over again, friends with common interests and no desire to go home, and we were getting paid for it. We could face growing, crushing workloads and the constant fear of termination, because we weren't alone. A joke here, a conversation about favorite television shows there, and soon the biggest priority of the day was choosing a lunch plan or scheduling the next Friday night adventure. When the dust settled from the layoffs, those who survived were separated further as half the company moved to another location.

If that job was a return to the social heyday of college, this year was a lot like graduation. In the beginning, when I finished school, my friends and I promised we'd still see each other regularly. The “brother” and “sister” bonds were too strong to break just because our schedules and routines were no longer parallel. But that's life. People scatter and get new routines. New families, new jobs, and new states soon separated us. The occasional wedding, funeral, or birthday might get us all in the same room once or twice a year, but it soon became evident that getting a few of us together would be miraculous, and the whole gang together would be a dream. For previous generations, this might lead to annual letters and phone calls and eventually nothing. At least in the internet age, I can stay connected to everyone online, even if I don't see them on the same regular basis I once did. It was still a difficult transition, and that was after four years. My last job was my home for seven years.

With each subsequent happy hour in the last few months, there seem to be fewer people in attendance. The majority of people who were let go are either busy with new regular jobs, freelance work, or searching for a new employer. Those left behind are dealing with a new commute and an exponential increase in work, and at the end of the day going home is a priority and a necessity. When everyone shared the same schedule and routine it was easy to gather a large crowd in one place, but now we've scattered and branched out to new schedules and new routines. I headed in to the city to meet some old friends for drinks and celebrate my birthday on Friday night. When I arrived at the bar, I couldn't find anyone. After a thorough search through a massive crowd, I stepped outside to make a phone call when I saw a text message from my friend Sparkplug indicating that the “party” was downstairs.

There were four people from my old job. Sparkplug was the only one I knew for sure still worked there. Two definitely were working at new companies and I wasn't sure about the last one. The rest of the people were friends and family of the people I did know. It was a fun evening, definitely better than sitting home and watching DVDs, but didn't compare to past adventures. In the end, I made note of a few things to keep in mind for future gatherings.

1) Repeatedly talking about how boring it is, or how things aren't the way they used to be, doesn't improve that condition. I'm not the only one guilty of that, and other topics such as how we're all getting too old to stay out late or how few people are left at our old job definitely brought the mood down as well.

2) Going to a bar a block away from a big event like a Police concert isn't the best idea. Prior to the concert, the bar was packed and it was impossible to move at times. A DVD of an old concert was blasted on every flatscreen television, so a lot of my “conversations” with people consisted of leaning in and shouting “WHAT??!” or just nodding even though I couldn't hear a word. Once the concert began, the majority of the crowd left the bar, and it was obvious how small our group was.

3) Some people don't like it if you blog about a night out in detail. That can tone down behavior at future outings, and give me less to write about. It's a shame too, because a friend of a friend told an hilarious anecdote involving a jealous boyfriend, a stairwell, and a garbage bag. Tears streamed down my face and I nearly fell off a barstool from laughing so hard.

4) It's good to have jokes and stories in one's repertoire. I do think asking “Anyone know any good jokes?” is as bad as answering that inquiry negatively. I never remember jokes when I hear them, and my humor consists of crafting hypothetical situations, or discussing stuff I've seen on sitcoms or in movies.

These things are clear in hindsight, especially the first item. It's a fact of life that people scatter and social climates evolve. It's important to adapt and move forward, appreciating the people who do still hang out rather than mourn those who don't, and keeping an eye out for new people. I might be a year older, but I can't be too old for the occasional night out with friends. As the dust settles from the disruptions of 2007, I anticipate reunions as well as new adventures.