Co-worker the No-worker

Scenario: An employee begs co-workers to join her for dinner on her birthday. She orders a bottle of wine and an expensive entrée. The check arrives at the table, and suddenly, the said employee is gazing distantly at the trendy lighting fixtures above our table, eavesdropping in the conversation at the table next to us, starts whistling Dixie, and then pulls a move like our boy, Homer Simpson, and fades to black. I'm thinking to myself, If this heifer excuses herself from this table and conveniently goes to the bathroom, I know somethin’!

The tension mounts and sweat starts to bead up on my brow. I hate awkward situations. It's not so much that I couldn't foot the bill, but it's the principal of the matter. One, I don't know this chick like that to be paying a fourth on a tab upwards of $70 each—not even including our tip. I meannn, sure, we're co-workers… Truth be told, she’s affectionately called, "Co-worker the No-worker." I also pay daily for what she doesn’t do at work…but that's a blog for another time.

I couldn't take it any longer. I snatched the faux leather binder that held the cursed 4x8 golden ticket. It may as well been golden due to the total resembling that of the current market bullion price.

We then had a non-verbal conversation—a silent exchange of pressed facial expressions, extended necks, and raised eyebrows. You gonna pay? Is she gonna pay? Do you see what's going on here? Make this awkwardness stop!

Along with the other self-respected guests, I looked at Co-worker the No-worker who bugged her eyes which is the equivalent to saying, What?  The last thing I wanted to do was make the moment more awkward by having the waiter come back to the table five times to ask if we were ready to settle the tab. We reluctantly proceeded to divvy up the golden ticket into thirds, tipped the waiter, and jetted faster than Cam Newton did from the press conference following Super Bowl 50. This chic had some nerve!  Mind you, she also hijacked the monthly office birthday party as her own, kinda like Elmira did to her pets on the cartoon Animaniacs; it wasn’t polite nor humble.  I thought, If you don't take this strawberry cake from Edgar’s Bakery and go in the corner and color?!  No, we're not changing the designated day set for the office party just for you. No, you don't get to declare this your party and disregard the other two co-workers who are celebrating their birthday as well. Just eat the cake, Anna Mae, and hush!

No one EVER has to worry about me going out with Co-worker the No-worker again. It befuddles me as to how some people have the audacity to be that selfish when it comes to such matters. What if we weren't able to cover her portion? Just to be clear, I wasn't busting suds for anybody.

And, another thing! Did I mention I really don't know her like that? Next time she asks can we pick her up anything for lunch or go out to dinner after work, I'm fading to black like my boy Homer. The choice of whom you break bread with is one that should be approached carefully and cautiously…