The IRI Picnic

I have told the story to many and I have tried to describe as best I could the IRI picnic. It is just one of those things were words don’t really do something justice. I have tried to paint a picture of the carnage that I witnessed but really, it is impossible. The picnic that I attended would be the last that IRI would ever have, thankfully because it added a couple of years to my life.

IRI was in many ways a very young company. The workers were young and the company itself had only been around since the early 80’s. I started there in June of 1992. I had recruited my friend Wally there two months later. We worked with another guy Andrew in the PC lab. Our first year there we were lowly hourly employees. Meaning if we didn’t work, we didn’t get paid. So, on the day of the picnic we opted to go to work so we could get paid. We figured since the rest of the company was at the picnic, it would be an easy day which it was.

After working there a little longer however, through the grapevine, we were told some of the lurid tales of the picnic. A guy we supported Tim, told us that people who knew they were going to quit would stay on until after the picnic. He basically in no uncertain terms told us, that next year it would be worth it to go even if we didn’t get paid.

So, in 1993 when the picnic was announced the three of us decided to attend. Our first order of business was securing a room. The picnic was held at Indian Head Lakes Golf Resort somewhere in the Northern burbs. Being the frugal spenders we were we decided to get one room for the three of us. I think they were offering us a deal in that we could get a room for like forty bucks. Which again, we split.

Included in the picnic were eighteen holes of golf for the low, low price of free. Tee times were determined by placing a name from each foursome in a hat. So, as the names were announced for tee times who do you think got the first tee-off at 6:05 in the morning? You guessed it. It was me Wally and Andrew as the first ones on the course. The rest of the company including the President and CEO would be following our asses.

The picnic was on a Friday. We had it all planned out. We would work Thursday, spend the night at Andrew’s (who lived in Lincoln Park) and get up bright and early to be on the course first thing in the morning. Of course being young we deiced to go out Thursday night.

Wally and I decided to hit Bamboo Bernie’s for a drink. We wound up closing the place as we had these girls dancing on top of the bar and as we fed them singles they exposed themselves to us. The bar closed at 2. We walked to Andrew’s and got to bed about 3 AM. We had to up at 4:30 to make it to the course in time. We got a little over an hour of sleep, on a very comfortable floor and we were off, fresh as daises. In reality we were still drunk from the fish bowls we consumed at Bernie’s.

Thank God, Andrew was there, and he drove us as we tried to at least attempt to get some sleep in the car, with minimal success. We get to the resort and tee off. Since we are tired and still intoxicated you can predict how well we played. The topper came somewhere on the back nine. There is an old golf rule where if your tee shot does not get past the ladies tee you are supposed to play the hole with your penis out. No one ever does it, but you joke about it. Well, to me and Wally’s dismay Andrew adhered to that rule. So, as he muffed his tee shot about twenty feet, he promptly pulled down his zipper and pulled out his manhood. Wally and I both, disgusted tell him we will meet him on the green if he intends to actually go through with this. Sure enough there on the green Andrew lines up all of his putts all the while hanging brain.

We finished up golfing sometime before 10 AM. The problem with that was we could not check into our room until 3 PM. So we had to wander around the resort for five hours. They had a lunch spread out for us which included the usual barbeque fare of hamburgers and hot dogs. They also had some horseshoe pits and sand volleyball courts. We killed some time with that stuff but eventually Wally and I hit the wall. We were running on pure adrenalin and really needed a shower and a nap.

At long last we got our room. IRI was having a diner party in the main ballroom of the resort at 5. So while we did get to shower, the nap didn’t really happen. So, we headed off to the dinner. It was held in the biggest banquet hall I have ever seen and you are talking about someone that has been to at least 100 weddings. This room was gigantic. There were at least ten bartender location setups throughout the hall. None of the bartenders had tip jars out. Meaning that IRI had already taken care of them.

In the far corner they were setting up the food table. This table was a mile long. It had more food on it then the Rio buffet. Ribs, chicken, prime rib, fish, pasta, and about a hundred side items. I can not begin to adequately describe just how much food was being laid on the serving tables. We sat there with our mouths drooling as they were putting the food out. I send Wally up to the buffet line to ask when we can start eating. He asks a server and she tells him to dig in. So, Wally is the first person in a room of near 1,000 people to start eating. I am not kidding as soon as Wally had a plate, there was a line out the door behind him.

After dining like kings the dancing and music started. The three of us headed to one of the bars and started doing shots with anyone in the company who wanted to do one with us. I was doing shots with guys in the mailroom to our top sales executives. I was a rookie so, I was doing shots of a number of things. One of those would be Goldschalger.

If you ever been in my presence after I have consumed Goldschalger, or are in the future, I want to go ahead and apologize now. It is the one drink that just puts me on my ass and turns me into an ass. That drink causes me to morph into another person. Another added plus of the drink is that it usually will cause me to blackout for periods. Which is what happened on this night. I was told I danced on a table with a guy from the mailroom. Apparently I toke a leak next to the CEO of the company and got into a drunken conversation with him. I also later found out I made out with some girl whose name I can not remember and whose face I wish I could forget.

At long last the party ended. It was like 10:30 but since we had virtually no sleep for two days and had gotten drunk as lemurs twice in that span, it felt like 4 AM. Eventually we stumbled back into the room. There I guess we had the bright idea to order a pizza and have it delivered. Never mind that we were barely coherent and needed a pizza about as much as a fish needs water, we still ordered one. So, while we are in the room, because we are just plain exhausted, we fall asleep. A half hour later there is a severe pounding at the door. I faintly hear it and try to ignore it but whoever it was would not stop. So, finally I drag myself up from the bed and answer the door. It is the pizza guy and he wants his $13 bucks. I some how mange to hand him some money and send him off. I open the pizza box take the smallest corner piece there, eat it and promptly pass out again.

The next morning we awoke to find a cold, uncovered, near full pizza lying out on the floor. We hit that thing like pigs at a trough for breakfast. Our room actually had a nice view overlooking the ninth hole. In the morning Andrew took a nice relaxing shower and proceeds to moon an unsuspecting foursome putting on the ninth green. Eventually we left barely making the checkout time.

The following Monday I dreaded walking down the halls of IRI. I couldn’t remember half the stuff I did and I was sure I made an ass of myself. (Which it turns out I did.) As I said that would be the last picnic IRI ever had and the last company picnic I would ever attend for any company I worked for. In hindsight I can’t imagine what that day must have cost IRI. Sadly, the days of companies having picnic’s and Christmas parties are a thing of the past. At least I was able to degrade myself once. Some day I will tell an almost equally sordid tale of the one IRI Christmas party I attended.