Worst office retreat ever?!

Oh, god. Literally, figuratively and in any other way possible. Jesus, Allah, Buddah, Vishnu or whatnot. As the old anti-piracy commercial used to say: what did I get myself into????

Two nights ago, I was sitting in my church hotel room (I'll get there) pondering how cruel and ironic fate can be. All I wanted of this evening was a glass of red, no preference, and time alone with my Kindle and A Clash of Kings. Instead, I was listening to what sounded like an evening prayer or a group singing exercise with piano accompaniment and trying to figure out how I would get through the next two days without slashing my wrists.

When I was told that this place is owned by the church and I won't be finding any wine, my heart skipped a beat, or two. Had I known earlier I would have packed accordingly. As to why a church would own a hotel, and by the way it's a chain of them, this remains a mystery. I got no answer to the question “Why?”. No one here even bothers to question the church. God forbid, hehe, I'd suggested it was to make $$$ for itself, the bashing would have been inevitable. With the possibility of the latter being physical. Or maybe it was my terror-of-being-locked-in-a-building-with-religious-fanatics-driven imagination that was getting a little out of control.

What followed was two full days of incessant complaining about the weather and how cold it was, how we should have picked another place, how awful the food was (and it truly was on the verge of disgusting; they must have bought the cheapest crap out there, and it wasn’t me who said that) and how … I don’t even remember the rest. Without my buddies Jack or Jim on my side this was unbearable.

The work we were supposed to be doing was at time moving, at times going no where. With little understanding of what we achieved, given the constant going back and forth about minute details, we finally departed for Nairobi.

The 22 minute bus ride seemed like eons. I walked into my room, threw my backpack on the bed and darted off for the nearest bar. By the power vested in a glass of nicely chilled white wine, my sanity was finally returning to me. Or so I hope.