Champagne in the Morning: A Day Not Like The Others

After working for Folio Literary Management for a week and a half, I started to get into a rhythm: I'd come into the office a little before ten, read a manuscript or two, write the appropriate number of reader’s reports, fire out some form rejections, catch up with my boss, and leave around six.  At some point during all that I make time for a forty-five minute lunch, during which my co-workers and I explore the city.  (Our explorations are less for exploring and more for finding cheap food.)

One morning, however, upon walking into our headquarters I was greeted with the mild disarray of an office party.  (I know, I know, you’ve seen The Wolf of Wall Street.  Guess what—I’m working in publishing.  Less money = less cocaine at parties.)  There were platters of food containing everything from fruit and cheese to muffins and pastries. More importantly, three bottles of reasonably nice champagne sat unopened on the secretary’s desk.

I know this probably isn't meant for me, but I'm going to go ahead and stuff my face anyway.

All of the employees seemed to be in a good mood, but one in particular—let’s call him Murphy—was ecstatic.  He popped open a bottle of champagne and offered it to everyone, interns included.  Most of the agents politely declined the offer, noting that it was ten in the morning, but we interns were more than happy to celebrate.*  In a few minutes, most of us were munching on Ritz crackers and sipping champagne out of plastic cups.

As to the reason for the festivities?  Unfortunately, I can't say without violating my confidentiality agreement.  You'll have to enjoy the story as is—a description of the obscene depravities in the publishing industry.

*Alcohol was only offered to those over the age of twenty-one.

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