it's happy hour again

Last week, my place of employment invited everyone in the Philadelphia office to a "happy hour" as a show of appreciation. Since most "social" programs have been cut as a result of the recent downturn of the economy, a small gathering like this was welcomed by the employees.

At four o'clock last Wednesday, a full-coverage email went out encouraging everyone to take some time out of their day to congregate in the office library for light fare and alcoholic and non-alcoholic refreshment. I joined some of my department co-workers and queued up for the free eats.

The company was kind enough to recruit a caterer to furnish an array of hot and cold appetizers, some displayed in large metal chafing dishes. I am a vegetarian, so I am constantly scrutinizing all edible offerings placed before me. Since the serving vessels were not labeled, I stuck with the things I recognized, although some of the mystery foods did look good. So, I scooped up a couple of  slices of bruschetta and went over to some of my co-workers.

As we made small talk and happily munched from our individual plates, I directed my friend Kym's attention to the buffet table, specifically to a plate piled high with small pie crusts stuffed with a thick and creamy, green-flecked filling. Just past the pies was a mutli-tiered plate laden with thinly-sliced celery and carrot sticks and ceramic crock of dip. Pointing to the pies, I asked Kym if she knew what they were. She raised her eyes, extended her finger, and, with a deadpan expression across her face, she confirmed, "That? Right there? Those are carrots."

I looked at Kym. "Do you really think I can't identify a carrot?"

I ate the bruschetta until it was time to go home.