Approach to Christmas 2 – office parties (“the horror, the horror”)

I have a Kurtz attitude to Christmas office parties ("the horror, the horror"), but sometimes there is no way of avoiding them. The agency has three types of office party: an evening dinner dance at an hotel for employees, an evening reception for the clients (actually held in our offices), and the final early afternoon informal buffet lunch held on the last day as everybody leaves. I managed to get out of the employees' event by citing a previous engagement, and the last-day-lunch on Friday was fairly harmless (Terry our MD gave out little presents under the Christmas tree), but there was no avoiding the “Client's Bash”.

This was held on Tuesday. All the day preparations were being made. Because the food and drink was going to be laid out upstairs, there wasn't a great deal to do on our floor although we had to tidy up and hide any sensitive information (while at the same time ensuring the agency remained operational).

The mood was not very good as the Christmas bonuses were given out in the morning and most people said they were disappointed. I hadn't expected anything (my contract says I have to be there a year) so I was very pleased to get a “token gesture” of £1,000 (“You'll have to pay tax and National Insurance on that” said Angela in a bad-temper, clearly of the opinion that my bonus had been at her expense). You could tell who had done well out of the bonuses, as they were the ones who kept very quiet and didn't say how much they had got.

Midday I went with out Angela to get some big red poinsettias that had been ordered at a nearby florist. It was good to get out and walk about, despite the cold. We took the plants upstairs where big heaps of holly and mistletoe had been delivered, and decorations were being put up.

A leather-clad bike courier arrived several times during the day, delivering last-minute “essentials” that had been forgotten at the planning stage. He seemed bemused at the extravagance of the preparations, and complained about the difficulty parking outside (“Getting a lot of grief from the police”). None of the “essentials” seemed particularly necessary.

At lunchtime Account Executives (or are they Account Managers? - I'm not sure) Rachel and Caroline took all the tackiest and most kitsch decorations and put them up round Alan's desk with a sign saying “Grotty Santa's Christmas Grotto”. When he came back from lunch Alan played up to his office-misery image with mock snarling, saying “bah humbug” to everyone. Later he took the decorations down, telling Pete his clients wouldn't like them.

A break from four until five, and then a pompous briefing meeting in Terry's office upstairs, with a warning to everyone not to get drunk.

The first clients began to arrive about six. As most of my clients are based outside London only a few turned up, so I helped Rachel look after hers (I do copywriting for some of them). I became trapped by a very boring Dutch manager from an international oil company – I kept trying to introduce him to someone else, but each time he drifted back again.

The food was very good, especially the smoked salmon sandwiches and the honey-glazed sausages. Most of the guests arrived at seven and stayed until nine. I became tired from all the standing around.

By ten o'clock almost all the guests had gone, and most of the staff had taken refuge in the Boardroom waiting for a signal from Terry that we could go. The clients had been given boxes of expensive chocolates wrapped in gold paper, and several of these were left over so we all got one each. It was almost eleven before I finally got away, getting a lift with one of the Account Execs to Harrow where I had left my car (I had been wary of missing the last train home, so had brought my car up).

More on Kurtz: http://www.bartleby.com/59/6/horrorthehor.html