A year in people #66 – the project manager

“Where the hell are my clothes?” I thought to myself.

I woke up, my head pounding. I opened one eye, and promptly shut it again. Ouch. Uh-oh. That familiar feeling as you realise you’re hungover and you start to piece together what happened before you fell asleep.

There was a pub. Drinks. Work colleagues. Definitely some shots. Oh yes, so many shots.

Where am I? I feel someone move next to me. Ohhhhhhh.

I sneak an eye open and see a man in his boxers walk out the room. I open both eyes. Oh shit. This is not my room. That man is one of my work colleagues.

I remember. I have a work conference today. We all do. A company work conference. Shit. Shit. That’s why we were all out last night. I need to get back to my hotel to get showered and changed and checked out.

I sit up. Oooofffff. My head. I’m dizzy. How many shots did we have? I blame Ruth for the shots. I remember dancing with Nigel. We were on FIRE with an epic dance off.

Where are my clothes. Where the bloody hell are they? Shit. Shit. I have a pair of boy shorts on and nothing else. Bright pink ones, not that it makes any difference.

I look down on the floor around the room. Nothing. No sign of anything belonging to me. Jesus bloody Christ. I have no idea where I am and where I may have deposited them. I hear a shower start. Only one thing for it; I’m going to have to venture out the other side of the door.

I edge over and press my ear up against the door. I can’t hear anything. I need the loo and make a mental note to find the toilet.

Right. I’m going for it.

I cover my boobs and wander out down a hallway. It’s dark and there’s a door. I head towards it, but before I get to it, it starts to open. Oh! Shit! I look for somewhere to hide but instead I just stand there, feet stuck to the floor, boobs barely covered.

“Oh hello Tara!”

“D? What are you doing here?”

“I live here. With A. Don’t you remember us talking about it last night?”

Do I look like I bloody remember that right now?! D was also a work colleague. “Erm. Well not really,” God this was awkward. “This is awkward. Ha.” I laughed feebly as he just stared at me. “Erm. I don’t suppose you know where my clothes are?” I asked.

“Errr, no, sorry.” He replied.

“Can you tell me where the loo is though?”

I found the loo, went for a pee and set back about on the hunt for my clothes.

Another door. I’m sure this was the way I’d come in the night before. I decided to try it.

“Woah! Shit sorry.” I shut the door quickly. In that room was F, another bloody work colleague. Surely he didn’t live here too? Just how many of my project manager colleagues were in this house?

Another door. This time to the kitchen. Well at least we’re getting somewhere now, because I definitely remember a kitchen. I’m sure I do. It’s a kitchen living room thing, and I spot a black bra on the floor near the sofa. RESULT. There’s a bit of a trail and one by one I grab my clothes. I don’t stop to put them on, I just run back down the corridor, where I bump into D again, who just points to A’s bedroom door.

I manage to get dressed and head back towards the kitchen where I just nonchalantly sit there waiting for everyone to be ready as we’re all heading to the same work conference. Handily at the same hotel I was staying at.

“Oh hello Tara! I didn’t realise you stayed here last night!” What the bloody hell.

“You live here as well M?” I squeaked.

“Well yes. Do you want a cereal bar?”

“Errr no thanks.” I just want to curl up in a ball and die.

Awkward.

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