Five Ways to get Through Your Office Christmas Party
Please don’t let this be you
So I’ve done a Christmas post already. I know. Just like the shops, I’m setting out my Christmas stall early and having old ladies walk past me muttering about Christmas being too early this year. What I haven’t mentioned is that the last Christmas post has a sister. This one. We’re a double feature. A conjoined twin. A tandem bike. A Twix.
Anyway, this part of the Christmas double feature concerns your impending work Office Christmas Party. I’m not going to mine this year. Prior engagement, you see. But I fear for those of you who have to endure, so I’ve dug out my Five Christmas Party Rules, in the words of Kylie and Jason, especially for you. Read them, memorise them, and for Gawd’s sake put them into action.
1. Beware of the free bar.
This is a poison chalice of the highest order.
I once saw my old company handyman passed out drunk on a couch in the reception area. As the night went on, people essentially vandalised the poor guy. By the time he came round he had a cock drawn on his cheek leading to his mouth, his shirt was off and he was sporting marker pen boobs. In addition, someone had managed to pull a silver sequined G-string over his trousers. Photos were, of course, taken.
Keep that picture in your mind as you consider your response to “Flaming Sambucas all round, anyone?!!!”
2. Do not get stuck next to management in the seating arrangements
Sometimes this is hard. My managing director for six years running would make sure that in the table layout my name tag was next to his. One year I snuck in and swapped it, but he insisted it was swapped back. He was a perv, though and maybe not all bosses are like that.
Perv or no, and assuming you have a choice, there is one good reason you should avoid them; they are not your friends. No amount of alcohol is enough to switch off the power balance switch that exists between the two of you. Don’t delude yourself it’s even worth trying. Also, they only want to talk about work. And you want to be over with your mates talking utter crap (and working out what to do to the passed-out janny this year), don’t you?
3. Do not go onto a club afterwards.
Given that most Christmas parties start at lunchtime, you really need to be home and out of harm’s way by late evening. Anything more is guaranteed messiness. And even if you are not the one being messy, then you will witness sights you cannot erase from your brain.
Worst of all will be being forced to dance with middle aged guys with Santa ties on, who haven’t been near any club recently that doesn’t have the word “golf “in front of it.
4.Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, cop off with anyone you work with.
I cannot stress this enough.
Other than the obvious “don’t-get-your-meat-where-you-get-your-bread” reason, there are three particular extra reasons.
Firstly, EVERYONE will know about it instantly. I was once called over by a work mate to witness a happening of this sort through the board room window. Before table-top coitus was even interuptusused, the whole company knew.
To be honest the couple were bloody lucky that drink perhaps makes things a little quicker, shall we say, as one of the cameramen I worked with was running to get the camera from upstairs. Lucky for them, he was too late to catch the exclusive. Also this was before YouTube, so big luck all round, there. The woman’s husband however, did find out…… and so the luck endeth.
Secondly, even if the affection was genuine at the time, you’ve got at least a week of no-work between the “happening” and going back to work guaranteeing extreme awkwardness that first day back. And you can bet the whole work is beaking-in to watch that situation go down.
Thirdly, you don’t want to ruin your Christmas with horrid flashbacks and ruminations of whether you should hand in your notice along with the drunken janitor.
5. The Special Fifth Survival Rule
Of course, you could just not go to the party, making all of the above redundant, but this requires extreme cunning. You need to be organised for this rule to stick. Think on, and have an excuse ready in September. Oops, too late. Maybe next year.
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The Gift
Today we went to a wedding.
As usual, we’re running late. So late that I’m wrapping the wedding present in the car and writing the card in between gear changes.
I’ve just read that back, it sounds like I am also driving. I wasn’t. Don’t call the police on me. The worst I’ve ever done is get dressed whilst driving.
As I wrap, Meeester reminds me of our bad reputation present wise. There are at least four people at this wedding who will remember our previous wedding present faux pas. We take bets on how long it will be before one of these people brings it up today.
This is the story of the wedding present faux pas that will haunt Misssy and Meeester for as long as they both shall live.
It is ten years ago and Meeester and Misssy are yet to have the pleasure of Indy and Junior Missy’s company. They have been married for about a year.
Meeester’s band are supposed to be playing a wedding. They never normally do weddings but a friend of a friend of a friend has asked a bunch of Aberdeen bands to play a small set at his wedding reception, and for some other reason Meeester’s band agree, despite not really knowing the bride or groom.
The band WAGS are also invited to the wedding. Misssy has made it clear that she is not going to a wedding of people she has never met before.
The day of the wedding arrives and Meeester gets a call from the groom to say that his band needn’t play, he has over invited bands and he’d rather that they just come along as guests instead. Meeester and Misssy decide they won’t go. Not knowing them, and such.
On the evening of the reception, friends who ARE going to the wedding despite not knowing the bride and groom, arrive at the Flat of the Flying Martinis with booze, and the agenda of persuading them to come along to the wedding after all.
After much to-ing and fro-ing Misssy relents and agrees to go along.
“But I am not going to a wedding without a present”
“The only shop that is open is the all night BP garage”
“Well I can hardly turn up with some Calor Gas, a bag of kindling and a pack of Magic Trees, can I?”
“Nobody will know we’ve not brought a present. Forget it”
Misssy counters, “But I’LL know. We have to take a present.”
Then it dawns on her that in the attic there is a small mountain of semi-opened wedding presents from their own wedding. You know, unwrapped enough to know who sent you it, but put in stasis still in its box for a time where you decide you either need it, or it’s time to put it to a car boot sale.
Or…. use it as a wedding present for somebody else.
Misssy grabs a couple of boxes and decides a set of matching mugs on a wooden tree are just the ticket. The party can now go to the wedding. In fact the party have all added their names to the label.
“To Couple we Barely Know,
Here’s some token of our embarrassment that we’re at your flipping wedding but we can barely remember your names. Have these mugs to remember us by as we are sure to never meet again. Sorry.
Love
Misssy, Meeester, Friend X and Friend Y”
In fact, whilst at the wedding a couple of other people ask if they can stick their names on the card as well. Fine by us. We sheepishly place it on the table crammed with presents from other people who actually love and KNOW the happy couple.
But, oh for the love of God, why didn’t anyone check out the inside of the box containing the mugs properly?
The couple are opening their presents the next morning and are moderately delighted with the present from the gang of people they barely know, but who came to their wedding anyway. But oh, what’s this card inside the box? A further greeting from the merrie band of people whose faces we woudn’t be able to point out in a line up?
“To Misssy and Meeester M
Wishing you our warmest congratulations on your wedding day,
Bill and Anne Neighboursofyourmum XXXX”
Luckily, the couple thought it was hilarious. They vowed to pass it on to the next wedding they went to, with the original label, our label and their future label all intact and enclosed.
So, if you get wed and get a gift that has a succession of labels/cards attached, then you are in receipt of the “Gift of Shame”.
Pass it on.
Update: On my myspace (where I also post the Misssives) the girl who was best man (I know!) at the wedding has been in touch. The couple in question have now split and she is hoping that she will receive the mug tree as a gift in her own upcoming nuptials. Ha! Lovely!
Further Update: This post was published in the book, “You’re not he Only One” available from www.lulu.com
