Every Saint Patrick’s Day, we draw names at work to determine who the unlucky designated drivers will be, and two years in a row my name came up.

I was more than pissed, but I was unwilling to renege on my responsibility to make sure that my boozed-up friends arrived home safely.

Last year, St. Patty’s fell on a Thursday and a lot of people planned on going in late the next day (or not at all), so I knew I was in for a long night. As I gathered my things, ready to head for the first stop of the evening, I noticed Michael, one of the guys from advertising, waiting by the exit. He was fairly new to the firm, but I’d had a serious crush on him since day one. I’d heard that he was quiet and kept pretty much to himself. A few of the guys thought he was kind of stuck on himself, and a couple of... Read More