I don’t know what it is about the office Christmas party that leads to such dodgy behavior. I mean, you work with these people ALL YEAR LONG. And you will have to face them on Monday. Seriously. You work with these people! Behave!
Although there are many theories as to the source of dodgey office Christmas party behavior, I think it all boils down to one thing. Open bar.
I have personally been involved in a number of office Christmas party fiascos and can state with absolute certainty that my behavior was due (100%) to the copious amounts of liquor I encountered upon arrival. Okay, and maybe a little bit (just a touch) to the amount I chose to consume.
Fiasco #1
While in college, my husband (then boyfriend) had the pleasure of spending a co-op term with Weyerhaeuser; a large forestry company based out of Kamloops. We attended the company Christmas party, which featured an open bar, a band and a large dance floor. Let me just say at the outset, that I really did have every intention of behaving like a grown up. It was our first office Christmas party and I had actually gone out and bought a new dress for the occasion. I envisioned myself floating around the room, sipping champagne and making small talk with all the fancy pants’. With no engagement on the horizon, I was also keen to demonstrate my abilities in a professional social setting. Who wouldn’t want a wife like me? I’m such an asset.
It remains unclear to me exactly when everything went south. I vaguely recall having dinner and being introduced to my husband’s boss, but after that there is a bit of a blank. The next blip of memory, I continue to find very disturbing. There was a dance contest. And guess who wanted to enter it? You guessed it – moi! And who do you think I wanted for my partner? Uh huh – my husband’s boss! Luckily, he was a very gregarious fellow and was quite pleased to accompany me to the dance floor and perform the twist – over and over and over again. Although I suspect we won the contest (I am a very talented office Christmas party dancer), I cannot be sure. Because after the dance contest, I came up with the best idea. Congo! That’s right. I led the entire Weyerhauser Christmas Party on a congo line. And when that wasn’t exciting enough for me, I decided to lead the congo line out of our ballroom and into the one next door. Surely these people will be excited to have a 200 person congo line crash their party and then weave its way through their tables, screaming “Congo!” every five seconds. Not so. It was a seniors Christmas party and not one of them joined our congo line. Not one! In fact, some of the looked a bit pissed off.
Fiasco #2
This fiasco occurred at my own office Christmas Party. After months of stress and long hours, it was finally time to “let loose”. Again . . . there was an open bar and a band. But I was convinced I had learned my lesson! We were married now. I was older. Wiser. Ummmmm . . . older – yes. Wiser – no.
Once again, I had procured a new outfit for the event. Ohhhh, and this one was a doozy. It was a black and swishy number that tied around my neck. The back of the dress was so low, that it required the purchase of not only a strapless bra, but a strapless, backless bra. Who knew such a thing existed! If you ever purchase such an item, be warned – not comfortable. Involves lots of extremely sticky tape, which is painful to both apply and remove.
Anyways . . . I looked fabulous! And once again, I promised myself that I would behave like a grown up and leave fashionably early. I really do not think that things would have turned out nearly so badly, if my boss’ friend (why he was at our party, I cannot recall) hadn’t started making enquiries about my undergarments. Seriously! Things like, “How you holdin’ everything up?” and “What’ll happen if you shake em?” Gasp! Who brought this asshole to our Christmas party? Not keen to participate in conversation with this pervert any longer, I consoled myself by pouring more wine . . . and more wine . . . and a little more wine. I know my husband suggested I NOT join the band on stage but they invited me up! And they were singing such a catchy tune – “Ride Sally Ride”. I actually think it wouldn’t have been so bad, had I not taken the microphone from the singer and began performing my own version of the song, which sounded something like “Rye Shlally Rhye”. Awful. Just bloody awful.
Fiasco #3
You’d think I’d learn. But no. I continued attending office Christmas parties, despite the “Rye Shlally Rhye” incident.
Fiasco #3 – my office Christmas Party – 2003. The party was held at a big fancy hotel and once again, I had procured a new outfit. This one was carefully selected. It was basically a spandex body suit covered in lace. It did not reveal too much cleavage when I bent over, and I was pretty sure I could do a summersault without reveling any of my bits. The perfect party outfit! I knew I was in trouble the moment we entered the party and saw that there was . . . a band! A fucking band! Honestly! How am I supposed to behave with a band? In an effort to calm myself, I went in search of the bar. Oh look. Open bar. Great.
My spirits rose slightly during dinner. This is not so bad. One glass of wine, one glass of water. One glass of wine, one glass of water. I was feeling home free. Look at me. I’m a grown up party goer! Let’s celebrate by skipping the next round of water!
There’s almost no need to go on. There was a band. There was wine. I was present . . .
After performing an extremely exaggerated version of the white man’s overbite with my boss (who I think did it to be funny, but I did to make fun of him), I embarked on an air guitar contest with his wife (she was quite accomplished at this particular move). She was in the process of trying to get the band to join us on the dance floor, when I decided a trip to the ladies was in order. Has this ever happened to you? You think everything is going well and then suddenly realize you are completely trashed and unable to form words? “What am I going to do?” I thought. “Everyone’s gonna know I’m trashed. Again.” Oh, bad, bad, bad. Panic! Wait . . . brilliant idea! I just need to sleep it off. Just a little nap and I’ll be good to go. Little lesson for those of you finding yourself in need of a public restroom nap:
Step 1: Lock stall door (extremely important step)
Step 2: Sit on toilet (with clothes on)
Step 3: Scoot down on toilet and place both feet on stall door
Step 4: Cross hands over chest and lean to the side, resting head on stall wall
I was in a dead sleep when my boss’ wife came yelling for me. Eeek! I’ve been found out. Fortunately, she was just as trashed (she had to be – she tried crawling under the stall door when I refused to come out). I am embarrassed to say that I had totally lost the ability to walk and literally had to be dragged by two of my co-workers and placed in a cab. And worst of all, the cab didn’t make it two feet, before I made him pull over so I could get sick on the street – in full view of my co-workers!!! The shame! Oh, the burning, burning shame!! After this incident, I vowed to cease attending all office Christmas parties.
Ahhhh, here’s the kicker. I changed my mind! And guess what? Office Christmas party this Saturday night! While my intentions are good, I have to face facts. I am an office Christmas party disaster and must take comfort in the fact that I rarely recall the entire event and have become quite comfortable with the Monday morning walk of shame. And I suspect I am not the only one . . .
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