Much like during romjul, the Norwegian holiday week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, between one and five people are likely to be in your office on Friday, the last work day before the Fourth of July weekend. Unlike the rest of your colleagues, who will already be long gone to far-flung party destinations like “the Cod” and “Another Nice Place,” you will be at your desk hoping against hope that some undetermined health-code violation will spontaneously close your office. As you sit and pray for a miracle, cursing yourself for using all your vacation time on that nine-day Monster Truck Convention in March, remember that you still have options. This Chagrindependence Day, do as our Founding Fathers did: Rebel against the authorities and throw your own party. Sad Neil and the other remaining six colleagues will surely join you. What else are they going to do? Work? Here’s what you’ll need:
VENDING-MACHINE PARTY MIX
Nothing says “let’s get this party started” better than a few bags of Kettle chips, a handful of Swedish fish, and an individual package of Fig Newtons, broken up by hand into tiny sticky chunks, all scattered together recklessly into a paper bowl. Here at Ghost Party HQ, we like to call this tasty treat Sorrow Confetti. Rumor has it, on this day 40 years ago, the patron saint of Chagrindependence Day showed up at several nearly abandoned offices and ate the Sorrow Confetti right from workers’ desks with his enormous tusklike incisors, then coughed up a golden egg for each of them in return. Keep the legend alive!
POOL DESK
First there were sitting desks. Then there were standing desks. And for some godforsaken reason, we even invented inflatable bouncing chairs for people who want to work on their cores. What’s stopping you from bringing desk development to the next level by introducing the first-ever pool desk, a place where you can swim and work all at once? Baby pools are something like $19.99 at your local hardware store, and water from your office’s tap is free, so do the math: One minute you’re crunching your eighth and ninth vertebrae in a rolling desk chair, the next you’re Ryan Lochte on his off day, chanting “Jeah! Jeah! Jeah!” like you’re in the fast lane to winning an Olympic gold. Get a big enough baby pool and invite Sad Neil to join you. After all, the water’s warm ;).
A DIFFERENT KIND OF FIREWORKS DISPLAY
Blast! Blast! That’s the sound of 1,000 beautiful fireworks erupting over the Cod — a place I can say with almost 100 percent certainty is probably real (?) — as your co-workers look on. But as they indulge in the simple delight of gunpowder exploding over the fair seaside city (whose mayor is I thiiiiink Tom Brady), you will be at your desk, blasting off your own type of fireworks. Need to email a vacationing colleague about something? Send them several hundred emails in rapid-fire succession, one bolded, uppercase word at a time. If by chance they look down at their phone during the show, they’ll “erupt” in fear that something is going wrong at the office, where you sit cackling in a warm pool next to a bowl of Sad Neil’s “coffee punch,” which is just iced coffee blended with hot coffee and then poured over ice. Blast! Blast! Isn’t the view beautiful from here?
CORNHOLE
This is a game that many people play. Bring it to the office and toss with reckless abandon.
MOVE EVERYONE’S DESKS AROUND
Just like when the Founding Fathers declared that the great city of Philadelphia would be the capital of the United States, then disastrously reneged on their decision and gave Washington, D.C. the title only 14 years later, you can shape the future of your republic. Move everyone’s desks around and give yourself the corner office. Who even cares!!! You’re the boss.
ALEXANDER SCAMILTON
If you’re trying to actually get any work done on this saddest of holidays, you are probably finding that many of your emails are getting automatic out-of-office replies from your absent co-workers. Not only is this really freaking annoying, it’s the perfect setup to the perfect scam: Whenever you need to cheer yourself up about the fact that you are toiling away at nothing while Manager Mandy is out cavorting on Mayor Brady’s golden yacht, email someone with an out-of-office reply with the subject: “URGENT: Hamilton tickets tonight — do you want? I can’t go, I’m sick!” When they respond in under three minutes with, “Oh my god I’m vacationing in Tilapia Isle right now, but could probably hop on a train back this afternoon???” hit them with the “Shoot, just gave them away.” That’s what they get for not being in the room where “work” happens.
