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Monday, January 18, 2010

Party in the USA

Consider the partying habits of Americans. Consider the rat race of America's corporate climate.

Nobody does it like we do.

Sure, my friends abroad have told me that partying in Germany, Russia, etc. is like a full time job. They start at 8pm and consider going to the bars around 11pm. Circa 12:30am the trek to the bar is a reality, then the disco later. All-in-all a night out goes til 6am, maybe even further into the morning hours. And although the Euro has financial trump, we've got Donald Trump. And Ivanka. So shove it.

Their students are more learned and worldly, but between blacking out and running Fortune 500 companies, nobody gets it done like the US. Politicking aside, our sales force is an army of its own - demanding Gross/Net within minutes, a mass of go-getters in a dead sprint to close the big deal. We do business like we do McDonalds; supersized and on the spot (England actually took the "Supersize" option off its menu when they saw that it accounted for less than 1% of its sales the year McDs came to Europe). What does this all mean? That excess is exhilarating.

Apparently so is obesity. But that's besides the point.

What other country would allow a rowdy cab driver to assault a drunken Butler and HookerJones? He made off with double what he should have been paid (and The Butler's cell phone...and spa certificate). Now that's a go-getter. Even BuckWild met her match at the movies when the punchy line-guard wouldn't let them through "without both tickets" even when she presented a receipt. Frugality indeed. But what I'm still focusing on is the company cruise. Nothing but four days of drunken, sloppy vacationing with The Man and Upper Management for a job well done. Next time you do shots with your boss, you'll know what I'm talking about.

Sure the Spaniards do their siestas. But we do Starbucks to keep us going from the weekend that wasn't really relaxing because we decided that, oh, Friday's happy hour would turn into an all-night booze-fest, Saturday meant drunken disaster downtown, and Sunday Funday was a must because our favorite team was playing.

Work hard. Play hard.

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