The exercise:
Write about: a holiday party.
Took the kids to their first official work Christmas party today. The RDOS puts on a holiday gathering for the children of staff, aimed at the 12 and under group, though obviously the last couple of years have had to look a little different.
There were lots of craft stations, an overabundance of food, a visit from Santa, and a goodie bag to take home. It was hurt a bit by illness-caused absences but the boys had fun and I'm glad I offered to help organize it in order to make sure it happened.
The adults get our turn Wednesday night.
2 comments:
That sounds like a fun party! I don't think I've ever worked anywhere where there was a party for the employees's children, but given the Christmas parties I've been expected to attend, none of them were ever suitable for children. And I think most of my colleagues preferred a night off from parenting duties. Still, I hope that this trend continues :)
A holiday party
Paging Dr Congo, Paging Dr Congo, Dr Congo to Ward 11 please.
The echoes of the tannoy died away and there was a momentary silence. Then the noise of the party in the break room reasserted itself and Dr Congo sighed softly.
He was standing, dressed in scrubs, outside the break-room smoking a cigarette. They didn't contain tobacco, which hadn't been industrially grown since the war in August -- another sigh there as he noted to himself that they now named wars after the months they happened in as they were so frequent, but at least short-lived -- but leaves of some vine that grew everywhere. Not kudzu, they'd been spared that infestation so far, but it was supposedly only three-hundred miles south. It tasted like old grape leaves and spoiled parsnips but it did make him feel slightly calmer.
A cheer went up from inside the break room and he guessed that they'd brought out the holiday VIP. Back when this started they'd got someone to dress up as Santa. A few years later they dressed one of the patients up as Santa as they were short-staffed. Now... this. He dropped the dog-end of his cigarette and screwed his foot down on it, reducing it to a sooty smear on the stained, concrete floor.
Paging Dr Congo, paging Dr Congo... The tannoy started up again, but he ignored it. They were always paging him; while he was running to one emergency they'd page him for another. You'd think he was the only doctor left in the hospital. He contained a smirk; his initials were DR and he had no medical degree, but his experience probably beat out all the official doctors here. They were fast tracked through a medical course that consisted of little more than "If they moan, they're a patient. If they ask for a drink or a cigarette they're a colleague. Try not to kill more than you save."
Singing had started now from inside the break room and he shivered. That meant that the holiday VIP was running out of time. Any minute now and they'd be forced to open the holiday present and then they'd be tossed to the ghouls.
Paging Dr Congo, paging Dr Congo...
Now seemed like a good time to go and find out what horrific injury had just arrived and needed the ministrations of the only real doctor here.
Greg - same here, and I definitely appreciate that they threw a separate one for the kids, as the adult one would have held much less interest for them.
Delightfully festive take on the prompt. Wait, no. Delightful take on the prompt, at least! I think that, for once, Congo is glad of being paged.
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