Drive Me Crazy

‘Who are the two bald guys standing next to her?’ he asks seriously.

‘There’s no one next to her,’ I reply, puzzled. Charlie is over by the buffet table, munching away on a sausage roll.

‘Oh, no, wait,’ new guy starts, ‘it’s just her boobs. Carry on.’

I giggle and shake my head. I admire Charlie’s confidence to wear such low tops, especially around all the pervy blokes who work here. I’d love to care less about what people think.

‘You see that guy.’ I subtly point at a young, skinny blonde lad who is entertaining the gaggle of female staff members. ‘That’s Craig. He’s the main reason we have dry office parties now. Last Christmas we had the bash at a hotel in town. The bosses went all-out. It was amazing.’

Well, the party was amazing, but it wasn’t amazing for me. Stephanie was supposed to be away with the kids, staying with family, so Will and I had a room booked at the hotel. I spent so much money on my outfit, I had my hair done and I spent ages getting ready. Then I turned up at the party and there was Stephanie on Will’s arm. She’d spent even more money on her outfit and looked like she’d spent even longer getting ready. She looked perfect. She knew that Will was staying at the hotel so, to keep up appearances as always, she stayed with him. Will and I had a big row that night. It’s the closest we’ve ever come to ending things.

‘So what did Craig do?’ the new guy asks, snapping me from my thoughts.

‘He thought he’d try and steal a bottle of champagne from the bar, reached over and somehow managed to catch his arm on something sharp. I’ve never seen a cut like it – or so much blood! It was all you could smell; it filled the air. He had to be rushed to hospital for an operation!’

The new guy shakes his head with despair, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of Cray-Craig’s (that’s what I call him in my head) behaviour.

‘Man, I love a drop of champers, but that’s insane.’

‘It’s completely insane,’ I agree. ‘Especially considering the fact it was a free bar.’

The new guy laughs. ‘So who else do I have to blame for enduring this sober?’

I glance around the room and spot a red-headed fifty-something lady wearing a navy blue twinset. She’s delicately sipping from her plastic cup, occasionally pinching crisps from the plate of the person next to her as she chats away.

‘That’s Cindy. See how prim and proper she seems? She turned up to a party with her husband – such a nice man! Very small and bald though, makes him look a bit like a turtle because he wears his suits too big for some reason. Anyway, Cindy had a bit too much to drink, made her way to the dance floor and started trying to grind on the men – then the women. Poor hubby just stood at the side of the room, watching, without a hint of any kind of emotion.’

‘That dirty devil.’ New guy laughs. ‘Who’s that twat?’

I look over in the direction he’s pointing and spot Karl. He’s simultaneously picking his nose and drooling over Charlie as she eats her sausage roll.

‘That’s Karl. He’s from Liverpool. He’s one of the drivers, and an office party repeat offender. He’s actually the reason there’s now a “three strikes, you’re out” behavioural policy.’

‘This I need to hear. Shall we sit down?’ new guy asks. ‘I’ll grab us a couple of lemonades.’

I smile and nod.

I take a seat at one of the canteen booths and shortly after the new guy joins me. He doesn’t take a seat opposite me like I expected him to, he sits next to me and scooches up close so we can continue our conversation without anyone hearing.

‘Do you know what this is?’ he asks, flashing me his key ring.

‘Of course,’ I reply, almost offended. ‘Just because I didn’t know what the Ocu- Ocul-’

‘Oculus,’ he interrupts me, putting me out of my misery. ‘It’s virtual reality gaming – even I’m not nerdy enough for that, don’t sweat it.’

‘Oh. Well, I know what that is – it’s a flash drive.’

New guy wiggles his eyebrows before popping the top off it and pouring its crystal-clear contents out into our drinks, half in each lemonade.

‘What is that?’ I squeak.

‘Vodka,’ he says coolly. ‘For emergencies.’

‘What kind of emergency requires vodka?’

‘Dull parties.’ He laughs. ‘Now tell me about Karl and his previous.’

I’m not much of a big drinker these days, but I sip my drink gratefully.

‘His first strike was not long after I started working for the company and the party was at Wi- Mr Starr’s massive house,’ I begin, correcting myself as I go along. ‘It was a Friday night and Karl got so wasted he had to go and throw up in one of the bathrooms. Anyway, he must have passed out. The party ended, everyone went home…’

‘But not Karl?’ new guy guesses.

‘Not Karl. Karl woke up on the floor the next morning and was too scared to leave. As the story goes he had planned to try and sneak out, but the opportunity never arose. He stayed in the bathroom until Saturday evening when the cleaner found him – and the toilet he’d blocked with his vomit.’

‘Nice.’ New guy nods, almost impressed by Karl’s antics. ‘What was his second strike?’

‘That took place in this very room last Halloween – we had a costume party,’ I explain, widening my eyes, pre-empting his disbelief.

‘This lot in fancy dress?’ He laughs. ‘It’s mostly middle-aged women and old truckers.’

‘Yes, a superhero costume party,’ I continue, and he finds this even funnier.

‘Who were you?’ he asks, quick as a flash.

‘I was – of course – Wonder Woman,’ I tell him, modestly.

‘This I need to see pictures of!’ New guy looks visibly surprised as he says this. ‘I’ve never seen you in anything but your office Stepford get-up. I bet you were a hit with the fellas.’

I flash the new guy an unimpressed side glance.

The truth is that my outfit was actually a big hit with the drivers, who were also only used to seeing me in my office attire – although back then it wasn’t quite as Stepford as it is now. With my big, brunette curled wig, my boobs pushed up underneath my chin and the red thigh-high boots I had to visit a sex shop specifically just to find, I actually felt like I looked pretty cool. Will didn’t agree, and he took me to one side to tell me as much. He thought that it was far too revealing, and not really me. I remember the exact words he used: ‘not right for my body’. I glanced over at Stephanie in her red-belted mac and her red fedora, that he was obviously fine for her to leave the house in. I had accidentally whipped Will with my lasso of truth, and that’s when I realised he didn’t want a thigh-flashing Wonder Woman with her cleavage on show, he wanted Carmen Sandiego, in her figure-hiding clothes and with her educational agenda. That’s when I realised I needed a Wonder Woman makeover circa 1950s, when they took away her whip to get rid of any bondage overtones, and made her more traditional and Christian. I’d already been watching my mouth and behaviour, but that’s when I stated dressing more appropriately.

‘Karl came dressed as Mr Incredible and at some point in the evening, the Flash decided to tell him a superhero-themed joke.’

‘Dare I ask what the joke was?’

‘I believe it was something along the lines of: “What’s the difference between Batman and a Scouser?”’

New guy widens his eyes.

‘I know the one.’

‘Well Karl didn’t, and when he heard the punchline…he got a bit punchy himself. He launched at The Flash, the two of them crashed through the buffet table and they had to be pulled apart. If you look over at the table, you can see where the leg was repaired. The best part of the tale is that no one actually knows who The Flash was. So not only did he not get into trouble, but Karl doesn’t feel like he properly avenged Liverpool. He swears he’ll find out who it was, one day.’

As I realise how quickly I’m getting through my drink, I puff air out of my cheeks and I examine my glass.

‘Gosh, what is this?’ I ask. ‘It’s…powerful.’