Punch Drunk

Horror stories from local office holiday parties, and tips for surviving yours.

'Tis the season for holiday office parties, and with them, myriad opportunities for the working stiffs who attend them to schmooze with their bosses, network with co-workers, or just get blind, stinking drunk and make gigantic asses of themselves. The workplace definition of "gigantic ass" is not limited to photocopying one's ass and/or adjacent anatomy, but usually also includes a mortifying display of at least one, or possibly all seven deadly sins. Allusions to lusty, mistletoe-inspired displays and regrettable, liquor-fueled hookups abound in office Christmas party lore. According to some who have partaken of forbidden cubicle fruit, the pleasures are fleeting while the dread of encountering one's one-off holiday paramour at the water cooler endures.

To wit, the experience of a junior executive (who has subsequently refrained from making interdepartmental friends with benefits): "I had a huge crush on a co-worker and at the Christmas party, we both got a little tipsy; well, OK, we both got a lot tipsy, and by the end of the party we were hanging all over each other, which made it pretty obvious that we had after-party plans. By the time we got down to business, he was so drunk that he couldn't, um, demonstrate his executive skills, so the whole thing was underwhelming, to say the least. In the morning we were both embarrassed, and we agreed to put it behind us and move on, but, since everybody we worked with pretty much knew we'd been together, it was just incredibly awkward."

There's awkward and then there's retina-searingly awkward, reports one local source, who, while making an early escape from her office Christmas party, stumbled upon her boss and his assistant in Clinton/Lewinsky mode: "We're talking two utterly unlikable, grossly overweight people going at it like dogs in heat. The real Christmas miracle is that I can still see."

Soldiers under fire dive into foxholes; office party casualties tend to dive beneath the nearest available desk. According to the former colleague of one desk-diver, such attempts at concealment are feeble at best. A weeping, cursing, wedding-ring-hurling man in full vomit is difficult to ignore under the best of circumstances; he is virtually unavoidable when curled in a fetal ball beneath his boss's desk.

: Ryan Casey

Workers of the world, take heed: Cheap wine, marital difficulties and access to your senior editor's desk is a combustible combination that can result in premature rumors of your demise, as happened to one inebriated slob who, after vigorous attempts to rouse him proved unsuccessful, was escorted from the office via gurney. Luckily for all, including his boss, who'd been left a voicemail about the incident that implied an E.D.U.D. (Employee Dead Under Desk), the desk-diver survived, albeit with a memorable hangover and questionable career prospects.

The acceptable limits of wild and crazy workplace behavior may vary by industry and upper-management style, but it's safe to say that replacing a foaming pitcher of suds with urine, and/or engaging in fisticuffs with wedding party guests in the adjoining banquet hall are likely to raise eyebrows. Those responsible for planning the annual holiday gala for the local members of one union have learned this the hard way. At last count, attendees have been asked to leave and never return to three establishments, and future party-venue pickings are slim.

Egregious examples of over-the-top (or under-the-desk, as the case may be) behaviors aside, the lapping flames of the office Yule log have singed careers for lesser, lower-profile offenses, according to local expert Pamela J. Holland, co-author of Help! Was That a Career Limiting Move? (Career Skills Press). Common sense and restraint, says the Jenkintown-based COO of BRODY Professional Development, are the keys to surviving the festive killing fields otherwise known as the holiday office parties.

According to Holland, if the powers-that-be request the pleasure of your presence at any work-related social function, consider it a command performance and act accordingly: RSVP, find out what everyone else plans to wear (and dress appropriately), make every effort to attend, and once there, refrain from, among other things, dancing like a stripper and/or Seinfeld's Elaine.

"Even though the party takes place after 5, and involves drinking or dancing, it's still all about business. The biggest mistake is forgetting that first and foremost, it's a business function, and for better or worse, your behavior will be noticed," Holland reports.

Just because the bar is open, she cautions, you don't have to belly up to it and drink yourself into oblivion during the cocktail hour. Candy may be dandy, but liquor is quicker, and if your urge to tell your boss what you really think of her/him exceeds your ability to recognize how drunk you actually are, pace your chug-a-lugging accordingly and don't overdo it. Ditto the buffet table: You are demonstrating your command of business social skills, not your Wing Bowl aspirations. If you don't drink, or wish to avoid drinking too much, arm yourself with a nonalcoholic drink (which doubles as a perfectly acceptable reason for turning down colleagues' offers to "buy" you one).

Like all good advice, a certain percentage of the very folks who might most benefit from Holland's tips and tactics for avoiding office-party pitfalls will choose to ignore it. Depending on the faux pas committed, those scrambling to run post-party career damage control are likely to have more than hangovers on their minds, but assuming they haven't committed illegal, highly offensive or outright outrageous acts, Holland says, they probably can and should take steps to clear the air.

Her advice: "If you've lost control, take it back; don't hide in your office and wait for it to blow over. If, for example, you flirted a little too much with a co-worker, go to that person, own up to your behavior, apologize and assure him or her that it will not happen again."

Restoring the professional reputations of those who exit their office parties born aloft by gurney-trundling EMTs may require more than an apology, but it's good to know there's hope for the rest of us.

(t_boppert@citypaper.net)