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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

F**king Chucky


At work, some teammates and I have held team building events for newly formed teams. This is fun for all the geeky reasons an HR person would think. The first event was near my home at the Apex entertainment complex - which has bowling, bars, pool, axe throwing, escape rooms, etc. We held the event on a Monday evening when it just so happens that the arcade games are half price. Growing up, I had a lot of experience frittering away my dad’s quarters in the Tetris and PacMan machines. I have some mad PacMan skills. So I immediately texted Andrea to swing by so I could beat her at PacMan. I’d estimated the Apex to be a short walk from our hotel. I estimated wrong. And then it began to rain while we were at the Apex. Andrea drove me back to my car so I could shuttle people back to the hotel. She dropped me off and turned around while I attempted to clean my car. It’s worth mentioning that I do not have an office. My car is a quasi office on wheels. So there I was, tossing things into the backseat and bagging up my vast collection of discarded Dunkin’ Donuts cups when Andrea pulled up beside me. “Give me that.” She said, nodding at my bag of trash. Then, taking pity on me, or more likely they poor saps about to climb into my car, she got out and helped me clean. “Oh. No. Don’t worry. This is fine!” I said protesting. “Maggie. You have to at least give the appearance you have your shit together. You don’t want people feeling worried when they hand you an important paper.” Andrea said sternly. Blah, blah. Andrea and I are organized in different ways. A few nights before this car clean up in the Hyatt parking lot, Andrea had handed me her DISC assessment. “I feel so seen.” She said, marveling at the way this tool had stripped her bare in front of her work colleagues. I read it and there were no surprises. I handed it back to Andrea who immediately demanded, “Where’s my paper clip?” After helping me that night, she drove off with my trash and a 40-pound bag of cat litter from my car. I texted her my thanks while she continued to marvel at what a shit show my car was. “Where’s my paper clip?” I jokingly texted. Without missing a beat, Andrea replied, “Probably in your backseat.” Well. Yeah. The most recent team building session was on Long Island. I’ve been to Long Island a handful of times and distance required a bit of a leap of faith in booking some venues - in particular, the escape room I’d booked for this afternoon. I’d spoken with the owner, Cat, by phone. She sounded sufficiently Long Island, which admittedly is not a criteria for selecting a venue. As I drove toward’s Cat’s establishment, it occurred to me that I didn’t inquire about parking and it turned out to be fairly non-existent, much like the signage for the escape room which we managed to find. Perhaps that was the first test? You escape the concrete jungle & enter their lobby. Which is at the top of a long flight of stairs. I prayed everyone in the group could manage stairs. The lobby had a tote box of props and a Chucky doll was at the top of the heap. The escape room employee pointed out that was for their murder themed room that you enter blindfolded and handcuffed. This really didn’t help anyone who may be nervous about their first escape room experience feel at ease. “I didn’t book that room!” I quickly offer. “It smells like wet dog in here.” Someone remarked of the lobby. Meanwhile, there I am, staring down at Chucky, thinking “Fucking Chucky.” And I want to say this aloud in the same accent as that little girl in the YouTube video only I can’t because I’m at work. I’ve had to behave a lot because dinner with the team and blah blah blah. Usually, I do home and act very un-HR so I can go back to work the next day and act HR. This "fucking Chucky" in my head is Andrea’s fault because she’s the one that showed me that YouTube video in the first place. Because I'm at work, I shouldn’t really say, “Hey - have you guys ever seen that ‘Fucking, Chucky.’ Video?” Instead I watch our team on the monitor work their way out of the room together. Fucking Chucky.


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