Ah, the Christmas party. Top contender for most feared Christmas experience? Or is that a little harsh?
Clothes shops think otherwise. Let there be little black dresses, and let them be sparkly too. Hairdressers gear up for the workload that goes with other people’s party season.
You know what they say. Introverts and extroverts both go to parties. (It’s true.)
But there is one group that soaks it all up, and one group that enjoys some of it, then secretly calculates how much a taxi home will cost if you are planning to make a break for it early.
You may have surmised which group I’m part of. (Though really, the fact that I stay home, sit on my own and write on a blog should have already given you some clues.)
The difficulty with parties is the contrast between the expectations, and our reading of what unfolds. Some days, the two may not be so far apart. Hurray for when that happens.
Or we may experience some aspect of the party which redeems it for us. It might be a good chat with a friend we haven’t spent time with for a while.
The odd free drink (depending on the party). The opportunity to see just what the photocopier can work with (depending on your Christmas party preferences).
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Christmas Past
In my memory, Christmas parties go back to the time of primary school. Those points when suddenly, non-uniform is allowed – and music, games and food combine to inflame the spirits of the under 10s.
You may even have been practising your dance moves in advance of the party. The noble Scottish tradition of teaching ceilidh dances in primary school means you can have most people up and dancing most of the time.
I think, at primary school stage, it was kind of OK. Most of us wanted games, and got them. There was some dancing, but everyone did the same, and no one had to work out what kind of dance moves were acceptable (or not).
There was food. We were expected to like jelly and ice cream, crisps and sausage rolls.
That was good, because we did. Even the wearing of party hats was not a matter of dispute.
Like any party though, there are highs and lows. Â In primary school, we don’t always have the social skills to get through. To help ourselves have reasonable expectations of what the experience will be like.
By the end of school, we have it worked out enough, partly through repetition. (And I do have some positive memories of a Christmas party in my first year at secondary school, where the sixth formers brought in the (yes) records, and we suddenly felt terribly cool, dancing to the music of teenagers who had more pocket money than we did.)
But when we reach adulthood: what then? There are expectations of what we wear, how we look, what we drink, how we respond if there are ‘entertainments’. But just what are those expectations?
It would be good if, when we sign our contracts for work, and get our induction packs, someone would slip in a piece of paper that says something about how to prepare for office parties.
There may well be before-party parties, where people down a few to get up the courage to attend the actual party. (I never got invited to these (no great surprise there), but I know they happened because you could identify those who had, when they arrived at the venue.)
Every year, there are serious warnings put out to help people avoid saying and doing the wrong things at office parties. So there must be enough people who didn’t receive that slip of paper in their induction pack, so to speak.
I’m not sure that I ever saw anything particularly significant in that department. But then, I might have been having a good chat with someone, and forgotten to look up.
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Christmas Present
Junior Reader comes home from the school Christmas party. ‘Not happy Bob…not happy. Ask me why.’ (Or words to that effect.)
Well. It may be wiser to tell you what a true super hero would do if faced with organising a party for kids:
– make sure that every child gets a prize for something at the party – and make sure it happens every year.
– make sure that everyone’s cool dance moves are rewarded
– look out prizes which are not just food ones (not everyone will be able to eat them)
– magically remove any memory of trips, stumbles and other sadnesses of the day. Because if the child is feeling at all out of sorts, tired from a long term at school, or any number of other things, all the other difficulties of the day will be remembered.
I do my best to understand. I do. I am unsure how I would feel these days in a room of school kids where everyone is over-excited – not just the birthday girl or boy, as at other parties.
These days, I don’t get work parties. I get a meal and a chat. The chance to relax. I don’t have to wear a party hat. I don’t have to dress up if I don’t want to (and I generally don’t).
A meal – there’s less pressure on that front. A chat – no problem. The menu may be everything to do with Christmas, or nothing, and either is just fine.
Maybe if I view that as my party, I should see the notion of a Christmas party in a better light?
Meanwhile, I offer snuggling on the sofa and some children’s TV to soothe the wounded breast. It may well work for over 10s too.
And if you’re coming in late from an office party, you only have to wait until 6am to check. But you might want to avoid anything overly cheery, if you’ve had a few too many rounds with the office photocopier.