Company Christmas Parties

It’s that time of year again when all the ladies in the office get excited about shopping for “the dress” for the company Christmas party. Oh joy, more rivalry, more gossip, more sitting in the corner wishing I were home in bed with a good book.

I’m sorry to sound like an old Grinch but I really loath company Christmas parties. Company Christmas parties are not designed for partner-less colleagues. They are designed for one of two things, for couples to sit around the table with the colleagues they work with year in and year out or they are for those who are grazing for a fling, preferably a one night stand. I’ve been to all kinds of company Christmas parties and never yet have I enjoyed one. My first one was when I was 19. I worked for an insurance company in Winnipeg. I was a telex operator and the youngest person in a company of really old people. Old being 40 at that time. I went with my best friend and we were bored silly. The music was from 1936 and I don’t think even the tango was invented yet. A week later we went to my best friend’s company party. She was a hair dresser and at least the crowd was somewhat younger . The excitement of the evening was who could get drunk faster. It wasn’t me. I was perfectly sober and perfectly bored as necking parties seemed to happen before my very eyes. That was another horrible evening .

Flash forward a few years and I am working in a law firm. Along comes the inevitable company Christmas party. I innocently decide I should go to this event because after all, lawyers are classy, right? Sweet lord, the hairdressers’ party was a debutante ball compared to the lawyers’ behavior. I had no idea people could consume so much liquor. Was that pot I smelled in the corner by the cloak room? Are these guys who are planning to be judges down the road smoking pot? I went home in a hurry and missed the truly scandalous behavior though I heard about it the following Monday. Oh yes, pattycakes going on behind the sofa. Behind the sofa? You may well ask. Suffice to say I didn’t go to any more lawyers’ Christmas parties. My parents wouldn’t let me! (and I was 25 at this point).

Flash forward a few more years and a few more wearisome parties and I am now working for a car dealership. The Macarena is now the hot dance of the season. What season? Company Christmas party season. I’m coerced into going. I take dance lessons. I win the contest. The boss’s wife insists I have to demonstrate my moves for the whole company. Yes, I admit it, I was table dancing. Humiliated? Yes. Drunk? No. Company Christmas parties and bosses wives don’t mix. Trust me on this one.

I had reached my low point.

Tonight is the latest company Christmas party. H’ors d’ouevres will be served hot and cold, bands playing on either end of the lovely hall, champagne flows as does the hot lava chocolate. Where am I? I am in bed with my Kindle. Bliss.