Warning: if you are of a sensitive nature and don't enjoy stories of wild antics by members of marketing/sales/editorial departments, do not continue. Know, however, that you'll be missing out on some epic tales.
This is a story I like to call, the Arkansas Business Publishing Group 2011 Retreat.
Chapter One: Arrival
I got to the mountain lodge where our retreat was being held on Thursday morning, and after a few minutes of chit-chat, was shown to my team's table. The entire company was split into nine teams, each with a different team color, based on answers we'd given to a survey taken a few weeks ago. My team included Kelcie, another girl in her mid-twenties who works from home but is really sweet; Johnny, a guy who I'd seen around the office before but still don't know what he does (he just celebrated 20 years at ABPG, which gives you a relative idea of his age compared to mine); Susan, who works in marketing and organizes our events, is one of two other Jews in the office, and is the keeper of the best candy jar; Bill, who is probably in his mid-50s, used to work on Arkansas Business and now is a manager of our annual publications and is nice if a bit awkward; Katie, who works in sales and is kind of mean and standoffish; and Olivia, who is in her sixties and happens to own the entire company. Cool.
The theme of the retreat was Mission Impossible, and my secret agent name was Baby Face. Though Johnny asked me if that was something people called me (seriously, guy?), my guess is that it refers to the fact that I'm the second-youngest person in the company (got a girl named Rachel beat by a month), and look like I'm 16.
Chapter Two: Activities, Day One
Since a work retreat is kind of like day-camp for adults, we were given a schedule with various activities, or "missions" that we would complete for points. The team with the most points at the end of two days would win the retreat. Though most of them were medium-lame, we were all in good spirits and everyone was a good sport in getting through the first couple of missions, which included memorizing names in a certain order (alphabetically backwards, based on their extension number from highest to lowest, based on their start date from oldest to newest, etc), stacking index cards on top of each other to achieve the most height, and participating in a Company Trivia Quiz Bowl.
Our last mission on Thursday was a two-hour scavenger hunt extravaganza, designed to get us out and about on the farm-like grounds of the place where we were staying. We were required to take videos and pictures of our team completing different tasks, and upload them to the retreat Twitter account for points (technology is fun!). Different tasks were worth different point values, with 100 being the most of any task.
So we're going along, taking pictures of ourselves spelling out ABPG with our bodies and piling into Susan's
PT Cruiser convertible. When suddenly, things start to get interesting.
One of the tasks was "Take a video of a member of your team chugging an adult beverage." So Olivia, who proved to be quite competitive, gladly stepped up to the plate. The retreat committee had made sure that a lot of liquor made its way up the mountain, and Susan, who was on the committee, was able to unearth a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal for Olivia's enjoyment. So while the rest of us chanted "chug, chug, chug" in the background, the owner of our company did just that.
Then she jumped in a pond.
Another task was for two members of the team to go in the pond. Points were given depending on how far into the water you went, with 100 points available for fully submerging. Olivia was determined to get the 100 points, and all she needed was another team volunteer.
I should probably mention that, in addition to being in her 60s, Olivia has had three hip replacements and walks with a cane.
So I figured that if she's game for an underwater dip, I, at 22 and no cane, have no excuses. So I signed on board. "That's my girl," she said. "Way to go, sister."
Being a practical person (did I mention she owns our company), Olivia didn't want to have to spend the rest of the day walking around in wet jeans. Nor did I. So we cast our modesty aside, had the men on our team occupy themselves elsewhere, and waded into the water in our team shirts and our under things, Olivia gripping her cane the whole time, despite the fact that it kept sinking down into the mud. It was rather hilarious, and one of the more bizarre situations I have ever found myself in. No one could really believe it, but we had video proof (our entrance into the mud was kept off-video, but we made sure to capture ourselves going underwater so we could get our points. It's all about the points, people).
Jeff, the president of our company, wondered why we let Olivia with her cane do such a thing. We asked him when was the last time he was able to stop Olivia from doing something she wanted to do. That shut him up.
Chapter Three: Cinco De Mayo and the Clayla Award
On Thursday night, the retreat committee threw an after-hours fiesta for all those interested in partying it up with their co-workers. This happens every year on the night of the retreat, and can tend to get a little wild. One year, for example, an administrative assistant named Clayla, who everyone thought was a quiet girl, ended up dancing on tables by the end of the night. Thus, the Clayla Award was born, and each year it's given to the person who, shall we say, loosens up the most.
I started the night with a tequila and tonic, a drink created by a guy who works in sales and known affectionately as Cheech. It was surprisingly good, and got the night started off on the right foot.
Next, we ABPGers bonded together over jello shots (yep), of which there were more than 200, made by a girl on the retreat committee. As the night progressed and more drinks were consumed (we had a margarita machine, a cooler full of beer, plenty of liquor and mixers), people got more and more ridiculous. At one point the president of our company, who'd had to excuse himself for a few hours to give a talk at a nearby business college, walked in and demanded a cold beer. The age range spanned from 22 to 50+, and no one was being shy. It got totally out of hand and was completely amazing.
The Clayla Award, in case you're wondering, went to a girl named Alyssa, who was caught on video singing along to "Jane Says" and dancing by herself in the kitchen. Props to her, when the video was shown and the award announced the next day, she wasn't too terribly mortified.
Chapter Four: Company History
Olivia was on hand on Friday to give the company history, a retreat tradition. Some of it I already knew, like that Arkansas Business was started in 1984 and was born out of a company called the Arkansas Writers Project that Olivia started with the man who currently owns the Arkansas Times, one of our competitors.
Some of it I did not know, like when Olivia was working at AWP they ran a story on businessmen who smoke marijuana, and Olivia was featured as the cover model, using a sterling silver shrimp fork as a roach clip for a real joint, which they lit for the sake of the photo. Or that in the seventies when they "was hippies" as Olivia said, the 12 or so employees got the chance to buy some "really good Quaaludes" from an advertiser; the drugs turned out to be horse tranquilizers. As Olivia put it, "the next day wasn't very productive."
Chapter Five: Wrap-Up
My team ended up coming in fourth, which wasn't bad, though Olivia was mildly disappointed. We did win the "Best entrance into the pond" award, though. Quite deservedly, I might add.
