Happy Hour: The Biggest Lie In Corporate America

I'll have to have someone explain this to me--I've been working full-time for over four years now, and I've reluctantly endured my share of happy hours. Still, I admit that I'm nowhere near solving the mystery: why is it called "Happy Hour?" Both words seem grossly inaccurate...

First of all, in my experience, not once has of one of these "happy" get-togethers actually lasted only a single hour. The typical happy hour gets underway at the end of the workday and doesn't end until well into the evening, often pushing 7 or even 8 o'clock.

Secondly, what is it that makes these gatherings so "happy" anyway? It seems that my coworkers have mistakenly drawn the conclusion that the nine hours a day I spend with them, five days a week, forty-nine weeks a year, just isn't enough. On the surface, the whole happy hour concept seems harmless enough--a group of coworkers get together after work, have some drinks, eat some appetizers, and talk. What's wrong with that, you ask? Let's examine the situation a little more closely...

It's important to note that my opinion is undeniably skewed by one simple fact: I'm not the average person. Most of my coworkers are on the verge of drooling at the mere thought of free alcohol and fried chicken wings. But me? I don't drink, which already places me in a minority, and to top it off, I enjoy healthy eating and regular exercise. Combine those characteristics, and I'm in a minority so small I might as well be an albino, homosexual, black, handicapped, blind, deaf amputee. For a person like me, happy hour is a half-step away from pure torture. After much thought and consideration, I've focused my list of happy hour grievances into four main areas: the food, the drinks, the timing, and the people. Let's dive in:

The Food

When the coworkers order food, there's never a healthy option in sight. It's nothing but potato chips with spinach dip, calamari, and fried just-about-anything-you-can-imagine. Sure, it's nice to indulge in these types of foods from time to time, but happy hour is a dangerous situation. Because everyone is spending the company's money on alcohol, they feel that it would be "too much" to order an actual meal...so we're left with appetizers.

What's wrong with appetizers? Nothing, except that appetizers are just that--appetizers. They aren't even remotely filling; they're nothing more than fat- and calorie-packed culinary teases. And remember, happy hour starts around 5 o'clock, shortly before the time people should be sitting down to eat a normal meal. So there you are, hungry and surrounded only by unhealthy foods that you could eat nonstop until the restaurant closes without ever feeling satisfied.

This leaves you with a short list of undesirable options: (1) Sit there, fighting the hunger pains, and take the dietary high road and avoid the food altogether. Keep in mind, you'll have to spend the whole time coming up with excuses for your coworkers who don't understand why you aren't eating anything. (2) Just eat a little to take the edge off. This might sound like a good idea at first, but this option never works. Best case scenario, you've taken three or four bites, consumed two days worth of calories and fat, and you've only teased your already angry stomach. Because in case you forgot, they're &%$#@* appetizers! And the bad news is that option (2) is a slippery slope to option (3): give in and make a meal out of junk food. Sure, you'll still be hungry, but nevertheless you can try to fill that void with ranch sauce, jumbo shrimp, and nachos. This is the most popular option among your coworkers, which is probably why most of them haven't been using the factory-issued notches on their belts since Jimmy Carter was in office.

The bad news is that even if you decide to eat some food at happy hour, it's not even possible to actually enjoy any of it. Because you're surrounded by coworkers (and maybe even your boss), manners and civility have to be top priority. Have you ever tried eating a chicken wing or nachos with a knife and fork? I've seen people attempt this, and the result is never anything but awkward. The bottom line is this: trying to eat appetizers in a civilized manner completely sucks the fun out of eating what would otherwise be tasty food.

The Drinks

My main complaint with the drink situation is pretty straightforward. As someone who doesn't like alcohol, all of my happy hour experiences have involved sitting with coworkers for several hours, drinking glass after glass of water. I often get the question, "What are you drinking?" People automatically assume that everyone at the table must be drinking alcohol, so when they see me clutching a glass filled with clear liquid, they apparently think I'm drinking straight vodka.

When I tell them it's water, they ask the obvious question, "Why don't you have a beer?" I tell them I don't drink, which inevitably prompts obvious question #2: "Why not?" I explain that I never really started drinking, I know I don't/would not like the taste, and most importantly, I don't see the point in taking up drinking at this stage in life if I've done just fine without it for twenty-five years. Some people understand; some continue the interrogation. Either way, I've sat through so many variations of this conversation in my life that I'm strongly considering putting together some kind of brochure or pamphlet that explains my thoughts, feelings, and philosophies on alcohol and it's role (or lack thereof) in my life.

The Timing

Before I explain my issues with the timing of happy hour, it's important to understand what my typical weekday looks like. I'm usually out of bed a little before 6:30AM so I can get showered and dressed for work, eat breakfast, check my email, and get to the office before 8AM. I spend the day at work, of course, and unless there's something urgent, I leave the office a little before 5PM. I drive back home, change clothes, eat something, and head to the gym around 5:30PM, and spent the next hour and a half or two hours exercising. By the time I get home, shower, and change clothes again, it's approaching 8PM. I try to get to bed around 10:30PM, which makes the next two and a half hours the most prized time of the day.

That little sliver of time between 8PM and 10:30PM is the only space in the day where I'm not getting ready for work, working, exercising, or otherwise mentally or physically engaged in something that requires my attention. As a result, I'm fiercely protective of that tiny little block of time. It's the only opportunity I have to relax and do whatever I want--surf the Internet, watch TV, talk to friends online, or read (though let's face it, I'm probably not going to waste such precious time on something like reading).

By now, it should be fairly clear why happy hour is so frustrating. As I mentioned before, I enjoy fitting exercise into my schedule every day, and I also enjoy having just a little time where I can finally relax at the end of the day. If happy hour starts at 5PM and lasts even two hours, one of those things isn't going to happen. Sure, I could push everything back by two hours and fit in the trifecta of happy hour, exercise, and free time...and simply go to bed after midnight. But I've found that creates havoc the next day.

I'm not saying I need all that sleep to ensure a productive day at the office the next day--after all, it's not uncommon for me to follow up a good night's sleep with an extremely unproductive day at work. However, at the very least I need the energy to pretend to be productive. When I'm too tired to fake it, I risk watching the whole system fall apart right in front of my eyes. I've personally found that the optimal bedtime is 10:30PM if I'm going to meet my minimum energy requirement to play the role of "productive worker" the following day. And that means happy hour forces me to trade one of two things that I like for something that I absolutely despise...

The People

I'd like to preface this section by making it clear that I don't dislike most of my coworkers--I get along with just about all of them, and I've even managed to endure the ones I don't care for quite as much. Still, at the end of the day, I'm ready to get away from them. Am I the only one that finds it disgusting that if you add up the total amount of time spent around other people over the course of a year, the number of hours spent with coworkers would absolutely dwarf the time spent with friends and family? The sad truth is that I only get to spend a fraction of my time around people I actually want to be around...most of the day, I'm around people who just happen to work in the same area at the same company. Again, I don't hate my coworkers, but we just don't have much in common...

What do I have in common with an almost-middle-age mother with two young children at home? You guessed it: absolutely nothing. And it's this lack of common ground that usually leads to painful conversation when happy hour rolls around. My philosophy is this: if you don't have anything interesting to say, don't say anything at all. I've never understood why silence is awkward when we're around people we don't know, yet we can sit quietly with friends without a hint of awkwardness. Shouldn't we feel more ashamed that we don't have anything to say to people we actually know and choose to be around? At any rate, it seems that most of my coworkers operate under the assumption that silence is evil, and they'll try just about anything to fill the silence.

The most common (and least creative) staple is small talk. Coworkers inevitably try to talk about the weather, local sports teams, or current events, but that can only fill so much time. It doesn't help that I refuse to be an active participant in these conversations. I'm far more entertained with the thoughts in my head than with a coworker's recap of yesterday's hot weather and tomorrow's 30% chance of rain. Any attempt on my part to continue such a conversation would be a clear violation of my philosophy.

When they've exhausted the small talk, coworkers usually start sharing stories about what's going on in their lives. Again, they've violated my rule: if you don't have anything interesting to say...but apparently we have drastically different meanings of the word "interesting." As a result, I have to force myself to pretend to care that their kid has a soccer game on Thursday night, or that they're getting new storm windows installed at home, or that they vacationed in North Dakota last summer. Again, I try to avoid active participation in these conversations, occasionally muttering things like, "Really? Uh-huh. I see. Do you?"

You'd think that after wading through the drudgery of home improvement stories and parenthood tales, things could only get better, but that's simply not the case. By this time, the coworkers turn to the one subject that they know we have in common: work. This typically starts anywhere from an hour to ninety minutes into happy hour. Even though this is a a subject where I might actually have something to contribute to the conversation, I'm too angry and dumbfounded to speak. All I can think is, "Is this really happening? Are we really spending our time outside work, sitting with our coworkers, talking about work?" My mind just can't comprehend it...I'm unable to even string together a coherent sentence. After about ten minutes, my brain simply shuts off from the confusion and frustration, leaving me with just enough sense to stumble out to the car and drive myself home when the "happy hour" finally comes to a close. It's no wonder that coworkers have accused me of being a little on the quiet side...

Where Do We Go From Here?

The irony of it all is that happy hours are viewed as some kind of treat or a reward. They normally find their way onto the calendar to celebrate the completion of a project, to welcome a new person to the group, or to say farewell to someone leaving the department. But how can anyone view happy hour as a reward? It seems more like a sick joke...for me, even the most desirable outcome of a happy hour is a pitiful way to spend an evening. After surviving a long day with a bunch of people who I don't choose to be around, I have trouble mustering any enthusiasm for a semi-mandatory invitation to spend a few more hours with the same people while I drink water, avoid appetizers, battle hunger pains, and endure painful conversations about children, the weather, and--of all things--work!

Sitting through a number of these painful events has led me to some important conclusions. Should I ever rise to any kind of managerial position in my career, my first act as leader will be to abolish happy hour. I realize this might upset the masses at first, but I have faith that they'll eventually come around to my way of thinking. If I want to reward someone, I'll offer them the afternoon off, throw a party during work, take them out to lunch, maybe give them a cash bonus or a gift...but whatever I do, my "reward" will not involve anything that requires time away from home. The way I see it, workers already spend way too much time doing things they have to do and not nearly enough time doing things they want to do.

Until the day comes when I finally have that power, I'll just have to continue fighting my lone battle, boycotting one happy hour after another. It's never easy--when the whole department leaves at the same time and heads over to the restaurant, you better have a good, high-quality excuse lined up...otherwise you're thirty minutes away from sipping water and listening to a story about little Billy's T-ball game last Tuesday.

Over the past four years, I've spun some brilliant tales to excuse myself from happy hour: I have to take a friend to the airport...I'm just too busy...I'm not feeling well...I need to take my car to the shop...I think I just pulled my hamstring...I'm allergic to happy hour...I'm helping someone move furniture tonight...I'm volunteering with dumb children...I just found out I have an unusually contagious form of swine flu. At the end of the day (quite literally) it doesn't matter what you say as long as you escape happy hour. So join with me, my friends. Future generations will smile fondly when they hear our names and recall the legend of that group of geniuses who banded together and abolished that ridiculous, painful, outdated tradition they used to call..."Happy Hour."