Tori Stories: Behind the Scenes at the Annual Marina Party
Maybe I worry too much, but I was concerned about the organized games at our Annual Marina Party. Not that I thought it was a bad idea, quite the opposite really. Full Disclosure, I’m a big dork. I’m not the best judge for what constitutes as “cool” these days — Or ever. Nevertheless, “Community” is in my job title, so I buckled up my boot straps and organized games with the Workhaus team. With the upmost sincerity, I hoped that members would have as much fun as I imagined it to be. Little did I know, that it would exceed all of my expectations.
Still, I was tentative to inform members about the games, in the fear they wouldn’t want to participate. As I gave everyone their assigned numbers, I was asked repeatedly, “What do these numbers mean?” Instantaneously I became awkward. Even more than usual.
“Uh. Gotta go. Sorry! I … Bye.” I replied unhelpfully.
Get a hold of yourself Tori. I internally chided myself. At least, I hope it was internally. That seemed to do the trick. When asked again about the numbers I responded assertively, “You’ll see.” As I tilted my head and tapped my nose with my index finger. I stunned the inquirer with confusion. Evidently I had confided in them a secret they couldn’t recall.
Hilarity ensued from the moment Adrian asked everyone to find their teammates. It had inadvertently had become the first challenge for each team to overcome. We should have had a point system for the fastest team assemble alone.
“Three.” A voice tentatively behind me whispered into the night, in the hopes it would find its way to
“FOUR!” Another voice boomed, drowning out the poor timid tone of team three. “FOURRR. FOURRR. FOUR!” Am I at a Marina or at a golf course? I wondered. Over 100 people were shouting numbers across the Marina, with their fingers thrust into the air, distorted into their perspective numbers. I looked to Adrian, partly amused, but also partly irritated with myself for not foreseeing the confusion. The chaos continued, surrounding me as I balanced on top of a picnic table in a vain attempt to snap photos.
“FOUR!” They still hadn’t found their team yet? I thought incredulously, when suddenly – as if someone had pressed the mute button, it was utterly silent. The stark contrast from the moment before prompted me to spin around on my picnic table stage, and sure enough, everyone had successfully found their teammates. Even, the ever so eager team four.
After brief introductions, the teams scattered across the expansive field along the waterfront. Most team members had only known each other for mere moments, and yet, they were now perfectly united in their commitment to win. I had the advantage of watching the action from afar as I floated around the field. Bare feet ran wildly through the grass as echoes of delight filled the air. I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of Ahmed, after an epic defeat by gravity, grinning ear to ear as he popped back up from the ground. I don’t know if it was the sun shining, Toronto skyline, or watching adults gleefully run around with such reckless abandon, but my heart was full in that moment.
Then it hit me. This is the Workhaus legacy. The party was more than a social, this was an extension of what Workhaus is really about, community. Just as each member rooted each other on across the field, they would now root each other on in the office. United in our full-hearted support for each other through every struggle, and every achievement. Truly and sincerely, we want our companies to not only grow, but help each other grow. However, we can’t take all the credit, because it’s our members that make our community, and we simply couldn’t ask for better members.