Today is the 5th of May - Cinco de Mayo.

Once again my office is having one of those cute little office lunches where they expect everyone to be wearing Mexican flair. I don’t really get it, isn’t Cinco de Mayo a Mexican holiday? I’m guessing it is since it’s called Cinco de Mayo and not Funftel von Kann, or Le Cinquieme de Peut.

So the kitchen is slowing filling up with Mexican food. As I fill up my coffee cup, I get side-glances from those dropping off food. Yes, I once again forgot to bring something in for the potluck. I can never remember, do people with last names between A-J bring snacks, or drinks? I could check the company wide email again to verify, but I have TheBat! filter out any company email that includes an attempt to raise our morale by adjusting the company dress code for a day by asking us to wear giant hats.

Though the thought did cross my mind to dress up like my own version of Don Pablo and ride in on a mule while drinking tequila. Maybe I’m confusing him with Juan Valdez.

Anyhow, after the 20 minutes of pot luck, standing in line for my chance to scoop up a spoon full of sitting-out-all-morning instant Taco mix, I’ll make my way back to my office, cast aside the straw sombrero that the HR director handed out to everyone and contemplate what part of being forced to read What Color is Your Parachute in college prepared me for corporate sponsored luncheons of this kind. It’s suppose to make me feel good about working for a cheery place, yet when I took a few days off when my son was born I was told how disappointed the company was that I missed the mandatory Drug Awareness and Prevention meeting. Maybe if the HR guy put half the effort he put into arranging this festival of motivation into being human (and the other half into realizing the shirt he’s wearing is Hawaiian, not Mexican), I would feel better about working here.

Cinco De Mayo: the 5th of Maybe you should leave me the hell alone.