It's that magical time of the year: people are hustling and bustling around shopping malls, putting up their Christmas decorations, counting their pennies, crawling further into debt, spreading holiday cheer, and of course facing the inevitable: the office Christmas party.
We know it's coming and we tell ourselves "Hey, nothing THAT bad will happen. It's just you and the people you spend 9 hours a day with, but in a different setting and with an open bar. What could really happen?" of course the open bar is the biggest factor in contributing to general accounts of embarrassment and awkward situations. Our office party last year ended up with an associate passing out face down on a dinner table, but not after arguing with our CEO about office politics, spilling his Appletini down the back of someone's dress, and assaulting me with a big, wet, sloppy (and unwanted) kiss on the cheek. This particular individual didn't attend the party this year as he no longer is gainfully employed by my company, and therefore I thought that this time around things would be a tad more calm. I should have known better. Let's start from the beginning.
The weather yesterday took a turn towards disastrous when in mid-afternoon the snow started to fall, coupled with freezing rain/sleet that accumulated into sheets of ice patches and frigid slushy puddles. I watched this scenario from my apartment window and wondered how on earth I was going to get to this party on time, if at all. I got ready, watched the Army/Navy football game (my cousin plays football for Army) and cursed the TV every time Navy scored a TD.
After that agonizing defeat, Brian picked me up and we went out in the Gold Coast for a late lunch. The brief walk from the car to our lunch destination doused my hair with sleet and rain, and the end result made me look like a stringy, scraggly disaster. It looked like a drowned wet animal's nest was perched upon my head. Awesome, glad I did my hair.
In retaliation, I opted to curl my hair for said office party. I almost never curl my hair because it just takes to long, but I went for it and decided that anything would look better at this point. Go figure, my hair then looked dynamite. I'm talking stellar. One of the best performances of my career I must say. I was stunned because my hair rarely obeys if at all. I had my mom take some pictures after I came home 6 hours later, and it still looked pretty good.
Ok enough bragging and on to the awkwardness. I arrived at the party, said my obligatory hellos, and began to work the room with a stiff cocktail in my hand. We have our office party at this really nice banquet hall that most people have their wedding receptions at. Think giant crystal chandeliers, high ceilings, well decorated, etc. Don't be fooled by this nice scenario though. Don't think that this nice setting complete with white lights, Christmas garland and wreaths, a DJ playing a solemn version of "O Holy Night", and red and green napkins adorning the tables meant that things would run smoothly.
Most of my co-workers that attended last year no longer work for the company, so this year's party was a bit dismal from the get-go. I found a table of individuals whom I knew kind of well (some more than others) and just invited myself to sit down and go for it. Dinner ran smoothly for the most part, me sitting at a table with a bunch of 30 and 40 somethings and their spouses, chatting away. Well, and Jeff.
After dinner the open bar kicked back in, and people started really hankering down for a major boozing session. Last year I drank way too much (in my defense, out of sheer nervousness) so this year I knew I was going to take it easy. I just sat back and decided to watch the show.
As the waiter was clearing my dessert plate, Jeff squinted at the two DJ's and exclaimed "Oh man. I know those guys, they worked at my brother's wedding. They are going to do a Blues Brothers impression in like 10 minutes." Ummmmm.....what?
It was something out of a bad movie, or a bad TV show. A room filled with awkwardness, forced mingling, getting boozed up, getting cornered into work-related conversations by the executives, and then this. A short and stocky DJ pushing 400 pounds with a bedraggled frizzy ponytail coming out to the dance floor with Belushi sunglasses, a suit, appropriate hat, and a microphone. He was followed by as you can imagine a skinny guy wearing some beat up Sketchers and a similar ensemble. Before 'Big Guy' even opened his mouth I felt myself squirming with embarrassment for him. I don't even know why.
"Gimmie Some Lovin'" started blasting through the speakers, and set these two in motion. It was like watching a mini trainwreck. Everyone in the room stopped their conversations and stared at these two guys bumbling around the dance floor, singing and doing their own impressions of Ackroyd and Belushi. I haven't even gotten to the best part yet: towards the end of the song Big Guy took off his suit coat and hat, and started stretching. Uh oh, this can't be good. He then proceeded to somersault and round-house cartwheel all over the floor, over and over again. I don't know if any of you have ever had the pleasure of seeing an obese man do gymnastics in public, but let me tell you, it's a sight your eyes will never forget. The skinny guy stood there stoically (perhaps for dramatic effect?) as the BG worked the floor. As the final note sounded, he jumped into the air and did a leg kick. The room was stunned. A few seconds too many went by before people started clapping.
Time for another drink.
I cozied up to the bar and chit-chatted with various people, just watching the eager older ladies tear it up on the dance floor, and all of the guys sipping Manhattans in the background. Sufficiently awkward, but not too bad.
A rather portly fellow by the name of Jerry came up to me around 9:30, and after politely engaging in conversation for 10 minutes, asked me if I would like to dance with him for the next slow song. The best way to describe this man is Milton from "Office Space". He's really nice, but....you know. Plus he's pushing 40 (ish) and me talking to him is very different from me dancing with him at our office party. Plus to be honest his eager invitation kind of creeped me out.
"Um...well I'm not sure Jerry, but if I want to dance I'll let you know. Thank you very much for the invite."
"Sure. Just let me know. I love to dance so you have nothing to worry about there."
Right.
Our CIO then walked up to me and started talking about anything and everything. Our CIO, Dan, is like a misplaced Italian mob boss that fell into suburbia and doesn't know what to do with himself. He makes up new curse words on the daily, and his favorite past times include throwing things across his office, swearing profusely, and threatening to "choke hold you if you keep screwing that up". He's quite a character.
As I worked on my 3rd vodka cranberry, I gathered my courage and asked him if a rumored story about him was true. The rumor would be that when he was 12 his dog bit his dad in the face, and his dad reached into his pocket, pulled out a gun, and shot the dog right there in the kitchen. True or false? True.
"Yeah it was gruesome. The dog took a chunk out of my dad's face, and in conclusion ended up splattered all over the room. My mom ended up cleaning it up."
Gross. This lead into a story about his favorite dog, Sadie, a pitbull that lived for 18 years, was the "best dog he's ever had" and how he "cried more when that damn dog died than when his mother died." He then enjoyed telling me another story of how he trained this dog to kill people, and suddenly lunged forward and pretended to (rather violently) choke me in order to explain how this dog was trained to rip out people's throats.
As I stood there in my curls, black cocktail dress, and high heels, this executive leans forward and grabs my neck with his huge hands and is mock-choking me in front of the entire party. People were staring, yet no one came over to ask what the heck it was all about. Typical.
Another male co-worker whom I barely recognize and never met started talking to Dan and interrupted our story. I stood there idly, looking around and sipping my drink. Then:
"Oh are you here with Dan?"
I didn't understand the question, and thought that he was asking if I was standing around talking to Dan.
"Oh yes" was my answer.
Dan looks at me quizzically before uttering "Huh? What?"
Suddenly I realize my mistake, and the true nature of the question. IDIOT!!!
"Um, no, I'm not here with Dan. I work here. With you. I'm the editor...." I was met with a blank stare, and more unnerving silence.
"Oh. Right. Well nice meeting you anyway." The man walked away.
Is this really my life?
Just as I was trying to get over my blunder, Jerry walks back up to the bar. I pretend like I don't notice, and saddle up in the ring of guys that I ate dinner with, laughing and talking. Jerry wouldn't have any of it. He walked right up to the group. Looking right at me he asked:
"Can I have this dance?"
The men stared with their mouths open, and then started hooting, hollering, cat calling, and carrying on. My face flushed crimson, and I started stuttering.
"Um...well I wasn't really planning on it...ummm..." I was met with a crestfallen face. Come on, self, buck up and bite the bullet.
"Well, ok." Jerry burst into a wide grin.
The men loved it. They were practically screaming in their corner of the world as I was lead to the dance floor. I tried to keep my distance, and tried to ignore that I was holding his hand. It was one of the most awkward moments of my adult life. I felt like this was a nice thing to do, but then as we spun around the floor he would try to pull me in tighter and suddenly I felt like I was in an episode of "How to Catch a Predator". I looked away and focused on the chairs, wood paneling, carpet, anything to distract me from the reality of my situation. He would try to talk to me, and I was disconnected and rather flighty, concentrating on the song and counting the seconds until it was over as he still tried to pull me in tighter, and as I simultaneously pulled back. UGH, WHY???
I rejoined the men and by this time it was 10:45 and everyone was good and drunk. Their wives and girlfriends were huddled in the other corner of the ballroom, sitting at a table and eating treats from the chocolate fountain.
I didn't care that out of this group I only really knew Jeff- I had no one else to really talk to and was just OK with hanging out with a group of strangers. That's when these married men started hitting on me.
"You're really beautiful. I mean, you look beautiful tonight."
"Um, thanks."
"No I can't tell you enough. I've been thinking about it since you got here, and how great you look."
*awkward laughter* "....uh, thanks!"
and another:
"Would you like to dance with me and my wife for the next song? It would be a whole lot more exciting if you were there in between us."
...............
I don't want to go on and repeat the other things mentioned. This is when I knew it was time to leave. Jeff grabbed my arm and spun me around on the dance floor one more time for good measure, and I grabbed my coat.
That's when Soulja Boy happened. I assume that most people reading this know the rap song by Soulja Boy called "Crank That". Well, this is not the song that you want to hear at your office Christmas party. Talk about uncomfortable and out of place, especially when the lyrics call for:
"I'm Jocking On Yo Bitch Ass
And If We Get The Fightin
Then I'm Cocking On Your Bitch
You Catch Me At Yo Local Party
Yes I Crank It Everyday
Haterz Get Mad Cuz
"I Got Me Some Bathin Apes" --> [what??]
I wanted to run and/or hide underneath the table. Cue people drunkenly stumbling out to the dance floor to do the "Crank That" dance. To give you an idea of what this looked like, I invite you to check this video out. True it's of little kids, but just add about 20-30 years plus like a gallon of alcohol, and you get the idea.
I was incredulous and just laughed until tears came into my eyes. I'm so glad I laid off the drink this year.
And there you have it. My own personal account of the office holiday party. Another year down, who knows how many more to go...
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