I was guilted into attending a retirement party tonight for a colleague who had worked at the OECD for 38 years.
After nearly four decades working for one organization, I figured it was worth showing up to drink a glass of champagne and show some respect for a serious commitment to one's career. About 10 minutes after I arrived, the speeches started, which is an awkward time to try and sneak out for dinner. So I hung in there for a good 30 minutes of 1) a good speech; followed by 2) a long but thoughtful speech and PPT, complete with embarrassing childhood photos; to finish with 3) a truly terrible speech that we could barely hear by the retiree himself, including photos of deceased colleagues who he worked with once upon a time. Not fantastic. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. As it turns out, our retiree fancied himself a bit of a music man. He sang in a choir in Paris, and had recruited a few friends to join him on this lovely evening to pay tribute to his life and career through song. First out of the gate was a barbershop quartet version of When I'm 64. Ok, some polite chuckles and uncomfortable glances were exchanged, but whatever - maybe the guy was 64 and the song had particular meaning. But then an MC took the mic, and we all realized that the show was just beginning. A pianist joined the group on "stage" for a duet with our intrepid retiree, performing what I can only describe as a song that morphed from a shrill musical number into spoken poetry about the life and aspirations of our man of the hour. A few of us went straight back to the bar and ordered another round of champagne. I honestly stopped paying close attention after a while because it was so awful. Watching it all unfold from the back, we heard a rousing rendition of the Banana Boat Song that was again performed in the timeless style of the barbershop quartet - only this time, a photo was projected behind the singers of a large bunch of bananas with a giant tarantula on top. Not kidding. Next came Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler, the classic French ditty that made sense for the occasion, followed by a less-appropriate romantic Portuguese ballad, performed in duet with a young lady. There simply were no words. I snuck out after probably eight consecutively horrible songs. Why would someone do this at their retirement party!?! My guess is that it was retribution for years of being a grumpy old man who had stayed in the same job for way too long, and this was one final eff you. For all I know, the concert is still raging. It was one of the most unbelievable moments I have ever witnessed in a professional environment - I'm glad I saw it all go down, but I'll definitely ask around before I attend the next OECD retirement party.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorBecause why not get married and move to Paris to really kick off your thirties? Archives
December 2016
|