I’d drank during virtual book club meetings, writers’ meetings, and other social events.
Yet getting together with other people across the States who I work with was a bit different since I’d never met most of them previously. We’re all customer service reps, called guides, who work from home and set our own hours.
Normally, the supervisors fly into a big city and invite nearby guides and guides who were willingly to fly into town, to work at a makeshift call center. They’d provide special training on the latest system update, but also test it out, so the supervisors could see in real time how it works with a few guides before unleashing it to the rest of the team.
With everyone in self-quarantine, all guides who wanted to participate in this latest virtual guide happy hour, just registered for the Zoom link and for an hour, we all politely chatted like the strangers we mostly were. I purposely set up in front of my rough draft paintings because they are an instant conversation piece. Who can resist what appears to be a quilt of naked people?
I explained that the paintings were rough drafts for my third novel, which of course led to the inevitable question about my first two books. One guide even questioned whether there were two previous books. I happily dashed into my bedroom, retrieved Tribe of One and The Adventures of Infinity & Negativa. I held the books up to the camera. I told the other guides that once this third book was done, I’d change the profile picture on Slack, holding my newest book.
Although I’m not a bourbon drinker, I bought this particular brand because Matthew McConaughey and his wife donated PPE to first responders.
I figured I could put some money in their pocket for that. Plus, I wanted to expand my happy hour selection.
I first tried it over ice with a splash of tonic water and margarita mix.
After going to the grocery store, I filled a goblet with fresh fruit: blueberries, strawberries, and mandarin slices. Then I poured the bourbon over it and let that marinate for about 20 minutes as I prepared dinner. Next I added a splash of margarita mix and tonic water. I called it a bourbon fruit cocktail. Leagues better than my first attempt, but still wasn’t quite a go-to drink.
Then, my roommate hit upon a classic idea: jello shots!
Both a nostalgic and delightful dessert drink. Previously, I’d only used my Korean celadon tea cups for tea, a shot of Baileys, and a midnight snack size portion of trail mix. Yet they were the perfect serving size for jello shots.
The first batch of jello shots were made with dark cherry.
I shared the above picture with one of my friends who summed up her thoughts with two quotes: 1) “Whisky is liquid sunshine.” ~George Bernard Shaw; and 2) “The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.” ~Unknown. Although I’d always heard the expression as “The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,” which is an old folk saying and references the 1929 novel, The Blacker the Berry: A Novel of a Negro Life by Wallace Thurman. The second batch of bourbon jello shots were raspberry flavor and still delicious.
The bourbon laced dessert I didn’t like too much was the Godiva dark chocolate pudding.
The strong bourbon taste overpowered the chocolaty goodness. Perhaps I hadn’t waited long enough for it to set. Or too much alcohol was used. The texture wasn’t pudding-like. And then there were coconut flakes. I normally love coconut, even with dark chocolate, but with all other things being “off,” the coconut flakes seemed like an out-of-place texture.
I stuck with the jello shots.
At one point, I looked up at the calendar and realized I hadn’t had a happy hour with the “insurance ladies” in over a month. At one point, all of us were insurance agents, but currently only one of us was. Nonetheless, I sent a group text that we were about due for another virtual HH. None of them responded.
Well, fuck me.
Reminded me of the time I was a preschool teacher. At the end of the day, there were about five 3-year olds sitting at the table with me, waiting for their parents to pick them up. I got the bright idea to start a rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” I didn’t get past the first line of the song. No child joined in singing with me and none of them clapped.
At least I laughed at being rebuked by those preschoolers. This felt far more personal.
I calmed myself down and promised not to send another text although I double and triple checked that the message had been delivered. I took several deep breaths and acknowledged that everyone was becoming edgier due to being self-quarantined for over two months.
Then I remembered those preschoolers.
Maybe it wasn’t the request to hang out virtually, talk and drink that was problematic, but the implied obligation to be “happy.” What other catchy phrase can we call it? Discussion Drinking–no. Wine Whining–not quite. Thirsty Thoughts–oh, wait, I hear it now–and no.
The following morning, I DM’d one of my friends who I’d texted, using our workplace messaging system. She told me that she had missed the message since her son had been using her phone to make movies. Yet, she later replied to the group text, stating she’d prefer Saturday, so her hubby could watch the kids.
This prompted another friend to reply that she’s been battling poison ivy–yes, I thought of the Batman villain first–and requested we meet the following Saturday or the one after that.
I’m so happy that I’d calmed myself down and gave my friends the benefit of the doubt for not responding sooner. Not only did I spare myself and my friends a lot of drama that none of us needed, but I struck a wonderful compromise: I had a zoom call with one friend and we’re still working on scheduling a bigger HH.