I tried to stay. I really did.

I am going to tell this story without embellishment, because none is necessary. The real-life details are horrifying enough.

Today our agency's new chief creative officer started. This is a very big deal. There was a reception for him and we were all supposed to go up and shake his hand.

I went up to the meeting room where the reception was being held. I saw our agency president holding court, allowing two of our top production chiefs to sniff his ass with so much enthusiasm I thought I had wandered into a dog park. Unseemly, yes, but bearable. "Suck it up, Gal," I told myself. "You can expect office politics everywhere there's an office."

I moved over to the buffet, where I heard one of my coworkers ask, loudly, of the ranch dressing he was spooning onto his plate, "Is this lox?" Well, it's not often you encounter white, runny lox. Perhaps the BP oil spill has already done something heinous to all of our salmon.

Then a guy swaggered in who appeared proud of having too many piercings, too many tattoos and a severe, too-black-to-be-natural mullet-mohawk. (This is Brian Bosworth; I am quite sure even he has figured out this look is stupid and abandoned it.)

I couldn't stay another moment. I simply couldn't. I left before the CCO even arrived.

I grabbed a beer and hurried back to my desk to blog about it before I forgot a single detail. And was envious of people who work from home.