I have been following a series over on Manuel’s site at Well Done Fillet.
It has been giving me nightmares.
He has been running a wee series on the Christmas Office Party – that most horrendous of events in the business year.
It always seemed to start around July, when someone would pipe up "What are we doing about the Christmas Party this year". There would be howls of protest ["Aw,Jayzus – it’s f*cking July, for f*ck’s sake"], but the machinery would be set in motion. The fights would start. The younger crowd would want to go drinking and dancing, and the older crowd would just want to get drunk. So there would be pitched battles as to the type of venue.
Then there was the location. There were always pitched battles over that too, as staff came from all over the eastern half of the country. And everyone wanted it in their own patch.
The party itself was sheer hell. We all had only one thing in common – work. So what did we talk about? Yes. Work.
Office parties always brought out the worst in people. The bossy ones became bossier and the shy ones usually ended up in tears in the jax [toilet].
There was always some pervert who used to go around groping the secretaries behind the filing cabinets, but then I had to do something to pass the time. Didn’t I?
The one good thing about the party that I used to enjoy was going around telling everyone [especially the boss] what utter w*nk*rs they were. If they remembered the next day [which was unlikely], I would deny it and say it was someone else. I started some great post-party fights that way.
One other nice side effect was that for about four weeks after the party, no one would talk to anyone else, so we used to have peace in the office.