Monthly Archive for June, 2009

Heather here with another horror story. I can so relate to this. What is it about executives that they always want to go to the place where you can’t get a reservation, at the time all the tables are full, tomorrow?

My company is based in London. Sometimes the big shots come over and I have to assist them on top of everyone else I do everything for. I am sure you can imagine what a delight this is. They can’t ever just ask for simple things like lunch reservations at Bobby Van’s. It is always something crazy like a helicopter at a time when there are no helicopters going where they want to go. Of course they think this is the simplest task in the world.

One day I got a call from an assistant in London looking for help with a dinner reservation. She said the phone number didn’t work and she thought she might be dialing it wrong because it just rang and rang. I said, “Sure, I can call them no problem.” HA. It turned out to be a huge pain in my ass.

I called the restaurant multiple times and it rang and rang. I decided to google it because she must have had the number wrong. Why on earth would The Waverly Inn not have a working phone? I had no idea that this was the most exclusive restaurant in New York, owned by Graydon Carter, the Editor-in-Chief of Vanity Fair. It was part of their “charm” to only get reservations if you knew someone or had the rumored secret reservation line.

I emailed the London assistant to let her know the situation in hopes that she would help me out with this ridiculous task. I had no luck. I did everything I could think of to try and get a reservation. I asked all the people in the office if they knew anyone who could get us a reservation or if they knew the secret number. They just laughed at me and said good luck. I asked all my friends with the same results. After more research I found that you might be able to get a reservation for a month in advance if you actually went to the restaurant. I didn’t have that much time but I figured it was worth a try. Their entrance is hidden too, of course, but I made plans to go down there myself and beg if I had to.

I informed Big Shot and his assistant of my plan and let them know I couldn’t make any guarantees. Just before I left the office I got an email from Big Shot saying he would do it himself. Of course, only after I had spent an entire week trying to solve this problem he would decide to do it himself.

I should have known that “doing it himself” meant calling one of his big shot friends and getting his assistant to do it for him. This assistant worked for a company that was a client of Vanity Fair had the secret rumored reservation number so she only had to pick up the phone and place the reservation. No pain involved. I decided to be happy it was done and I didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

The day after his dinner Big Shot asked me to send flowers to the assistant who got him the reservation. I couldn’t believe after all my hard work and determination, when his own assistant gave up that, he would not only send flowers to someone else but make me do it. How’s that for a smack in the face?

- Submitted by Ann

Heather here. As I said Tuesday, I am launching a new blog crackoutblackout.com with my friend Leah today. A Crackout Blackout is when someone has a few too many drinks and does hilarious things that they might forget. Their friends will remember however and remind them later while laughing at them. Our blog shares those hilarious stories with you. I have chosen to share this work Christmas party horror story today. Stop by our site and say hello or follow us on twitter @crkoutblkout.

A few years ago I went to the company fancy dress Christmas party in London. I got sick on the way there and had to take a Claritin after we landed. I ran around the city all afternoon before the party and realized I hadn’t eaten since the middle of the night before on the plane. I had no idea this would turn out to be a horrible mistake.

I must say partying with the Brits is the best. They love to drink and know how to have a good time. We arrived at the party and immediately got to drinking. I had one glass of champagne and quickly moved on to glass number two followed soon after by an endless supply of red and white wine with dinner. I never saw the bottom of either glass.

We went back to the hotel at 2:30 AM after clubbing with one of the Brits in tow where we drank ourselves silly in Jessica’s room. The next thing I knew it was morning and bottles were everywhere. “How did I end up in frat house?” I wondered. Then I realized I was not in a frat house… I was passed out cold in Jessica’s bed. And she was right next to me.

I said without thinking, “Oh no, I didn’t make it back to my room?” I didn’t expect a response but Jessica said sheepishly, “No, you fell asleep and we couldn’t wake you up.”

That was my cue to leave. I went back to my room mortified. On the way I noticed I had hot pink dye on my cheek and collar bone from someone’s feather boa that I had passed out wearing. Finally in my room, I noticed something was different. Someone had slept in the other bed. Then I noticed the towels in the bathroom were everywhere. I wondered where Goldilocks was and then I went back to sleep in my own bed.

A little while later, I tried to scrub the dye off my cheek with no success when I realized it could be disguised with blush. I took some smartly packed Advil and made my way into the office extremely late, hung-over and without a voice.

Once there, I tracked down Jane, the Brit who took us to the club. “Um, what happened last night?” I asked a few times until she understood my squeaking. The look on her face told me I wasn’t getting the whole story. At least not from her.

“Well, we went to a club after the party was over. I’m surprised they didn’t kick us out. Some of the guys picked up Jessica and were holding her up over their heads. We were pretty wild,” said Jane. Either she didn’t remember anything else or she wasn’t telling me the rest.

Once I found Jessica I got some more information. I made out with an Indian guy at the club and the guys had raided everyone’s mini bars once we got back to the hotel. Turns out the guy I was sitting a few computers away from had slept in my room when he finally remembered my room number at 6:30 AM and they couldn’t wake me. I thought maybe my mini bar was safe since they didn’t know my room number but I found out they went through it once the mystery of my room number was solved.

I still don’t know all the events of the evening but most of the company knows I slept in my female colleagues bed. Now that is what I call a successful company Christmas party.

- Submitted by Anonymous

Heather here. I don’t know about you but I can’t stand doing personal errands for my boss. Hopefully your boss isn’t as unfeeling as this one.

My boss made me get his old briefcase fixed for him. I am really busy with actual work so personal errands really piss me off. I finally got around to boxing it up a few days ago when I read the description. “Old case but my favorite and a dependable road companion. Needs some TLC to bring back to life.” This was just too much.

I wanted to go sell it at my favorite vintage store and tell him it got lost in the mail. I am overworked, underpaid and falling apart. When am I going to get my TLC?

- Submitted by Helena, NY