'Tis the season. Time for holiday cards, gift wrapping, tree trimming and the time-honored awkward social event that is the office holiday party.
Does anyone really enjoy these gatherings? I don't mean the after-party you and the co-workers you actually like have at the local bar once the official soiree is over. I mean the actual party itself. In my experience, the best you can hope for is to not embarrass yourself by doing something stupid caused by nervous alcohol consumption.
Being at the company Christmas party is like having friends over your house while you are still in college. Sure, you can legally drink, but your dad is going to come down to the basement in his bathrobe at some point and tell you to keep that racket down. Bosses, typically don't want lawsuits on their hands, post-xmas party, so while there is booze, it's not exactly the night to be doing Jager bombs. This point is pointedly driven home by the fact 99% of these gatherings happen on Thursdays, forcing you to curtail your consumption in order to make it to work the next day. Since calling in sick the day after the holiday party essentially tells the boss you are not ready for the varsity team just yet.
Speaking of the boss, of course you have to have five minutes of stilted conversation with him or her. You try to talk about non-work things, and for some of you, you might actually have a lot in common with this person - lucky you. For most, the only thing that links them with their head honcho is the signature on their paycheck. Then there are the coworkers. There's that strange guy from the mailroom you exchange thirty seconds of pleasantries with on a work day, who corners you by the buffet at the party to talk to you about his eight track player collection. And there's always some unexpected drunkard. A guy or gal who seems pretty sane the other 364 days of the year, but winds up leading the whole room in the Electric Slide a few hours in.
The venue is always an interesting aspect of holiday celebrations. Your coworkers out of their natural habitat can be pretty hilarious. Seeing the cranky accounts guy at Senor Tacos holding a margherita is like seeing a monkey driving a bus. In my most recent office party experience (through H), the place is frequently chosen by some twenty-something girls in HR with a name like Brittany. She thinks low,white leather couches and purple strobe lights are awesome! The sixty year-old head of billing does not agree as he throw his back out getting off of said couches to go be disgusted by the sushi bar and stare quizzically at the vodka luge.*
Speaking of going H's holiday parties, attending one of these fetes as the spouse is a particular kind of awkward. Especially the first year at a company. For H and I it is even worse, since I am usually the party navigator, and in this particular instance, I am stuck to him like a social remora, relying on him for introductions. But come the second year, I have usually made a few besties among the office girls (shout out, A), and usually wander off on my own. A fine line must be walked, however, since no one wants to be known as "the guys with that drunk wife" come the next morning.** Also, over the last few years, as H has ascended the ranks, there's a bit of "the boss's wife" situation where people are oddly formal talking to me. I'm beginning to think the boss (or their spouse) is as uncomfortable at the party as everyone else.
Yes, cliches abound along with painful social interaction, office hookups and inappropriate photocopier for example. If (most of us) have learned to avoid some of these behaviors, like making copies of one's ass, why can't we get past the weirdness? Because we didn't choose to hang out with these people, that's why. It's like family. Some of us are lucky enough to have a great time with ours***, but others merely tolerate theirs. So if we can into these things with that mindset, maybe things would be better. You wouldn't have a rager with your Aunt Maggie. Don't expect that of your boss while enjoying your free booze and shrimp.
*One year, H's party was held in this industrial space where a guy dressed in a mirror gimp suit did a suspended acrobatic act like a human disco ball.
**I didn't help the year I stol the life-sized cardboard cutout they had made of H, dragging it into a cab with me.
***Lucky me.
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