Last night I went to my office Christmas party. I do quite enjoy an office Christmas party. There’s very much a protocol to the way things are run. It’s sort of like a school disco, but you don’t have to hide your hipflask…. scratch that, it’s exactly like a school disco. It’s just a nice excuse for people to let their work masks fall to the floor and to actually talk to each other about how they really feel. These tend to fall into the following categories:
- “You’re a great guy/girl. I love working with you”.
- “You’re a bastard, get away from me, you owe me a pint!”
- “Why don’t we talk at work?”
The majority of this kind of thing will be completely forgotten on Monday, or at the very least people will pretend that they have forgotten about it in order to try and make their office life a little bit simpler. It becomes a chore when you can’t make it to the printer without having to give a cheeky wink and a hiya to everyone so people tend to stick to their own and its a terrible way to be. It’s very English and it is very claustrophobic.
I have a solution. We drink during work hours.
Sure, it might not help productivity. Sure it might increase the number of people vomiting in the canteen but I wish we could have the camaraderie of last night every single day. It was a delight.