The Holiday Office Party

I did not miss the in-person holiday office party.

To me, a pandemic silver lining was that a Zoom soiree was a far better option for mandated co-worker merriment. The Zoom holiday party was, quite simply, perfect.  It was remote, lasted only 59 minutes, and I could keep everyone on Mute.  Plus, who doesn’t like to peek at people’s personal stuff? Was the four-story cat castle in Angela from Accounting’s living room a surprise?  No.  But it verified everything I ever thought about Angela, and that felt good. 

Which is why, it is with a heavy heart that I bid the Zoom office party goodbye.  The live and in-person Office Holiday Party is back in business and I have been recruited.  Worse, it isn’t even my office party.  It’s my husband’s.  What’s so wrong, you ask?  Well…let me share the very first conversation I had with one of my husband’s co-workers:

Me: “Hello, Joanne!  How are you??

I’m fine, Jackie, thank you.  How are you?

Great!  Wow, it’s been a long time. 

Yes, since the pandemic. 

So are things good with you, Joanne?

Things are okay.  I upped my Wellbutrin to a level where I’m emotionally vacant but it helped get me through the divorce.  And my name is Amanda.

Oh my gosh. Amanda? Geez, I am so sorry.

That’s okay.  Before the pandemic, you always called me Bethany. 

You see, I am not a natural at forced chit-chat, not because I don’t care, but… well, actually, it is because I don’t care.  Or maybe I care but I’m just not that interested.  When my husband made an introduction that began, “This is Tom. Tom was a quant guy but now he’s doing derivatives…” I felt like weeping.  And leaving.  Or both. But because weeping would be detrimental to my husband’s career, and leaving detrimental to my marriage, I instead went to the party venue’s bar to drink.  Funny, two years ago I’d insist that any bartender mixing me a drink would need a hazmat suit and gloves, but at this party he could squeeze my limes with his butt cheeks and still I’d welcome the drink.  As long as it took me away from Tom.  Not to mention Bethany. 

Typically at these parties the workers chat with their co-workers, and the wives or significant others talk to one another.  Here is one conversation I had with one of the wives:

Me: “Hi I’m Jackie. 

“Hi, I’m... 

I don’t remember anything after that. 

Later, I asked another significant other what she did for a living, and she told me that though she was trained as a lawyer, she now offered meditative colonic services from her home in Queens and might I want an appointment?  I politely declined before heading back to the bar. I mean, ewwww! Is she kidding?  Queens???

My dirty-fingered bartender and I had several substantive conversations, typified by me mostly ordering drinks and him saying things like, “Here you go.”  Or, “Another, ma’am?”  And once, “Is someone here to take you home?”

Home, G-d what I’d give… but it looked like my husband was having a ball so I did what every good corporate wife would do to support her partner.  I got on the dance floor, shook my hair and my ass and danced like there was no tomorrow.  I find that dance really loosens me up.  Or maybe it was that fifth cocktail, but whichever, I really rocked that dance floor.  Later, as we headed home, my husband tersely explained that there had been no music or dance floor, which was, at first, confusing but later, as I pictured the faces of the co-workers watching me, it made a lot of sense.

Must have been my holiday spirit.  Here’s wishing you the same. 

Happy holidays!