The Lady Guide to Modern Manners: 14 December
Dear Thomas,
At the office party, I was such a disgrace last year. How can I improve this time round?
Melanie Sandwood, Basingstoke
Dear Melanie,
Unspeakable things can happen at festive office parties, far worse than at any ‘normal’ party. It’s the release of tension, the sudden absence of boundaries. The earnest office facade is hurled away. People want to prove what fabulous fun they really are. They get drunk or take to the dance floor. Or, if they’re very young or just irresponsible, they mistake the work’s seasonal function for a wild Friday night with their closest friends. But at the office party, you are at work, despite all indications to the contrary. There’s a call for behaviour.
The Lady has received an unusual press release from the British Water Cooler Association. Cling to your workplace water cooler through the party tempest, it advises, and you will be saved: saved from becoming inappropriately dressed, saved from ill-advised kisses, saved from all sorts of bad behaviour.
So how does the strategy work? Well, simply say, ‘I must visit the water cooler,’ and take time out. Drink deep, take as much water as you have had alcohol and soon you will be restored to a state of head-girl perfection – and ready to perform saintly acts, such as preventing the man from accounts from insulting the boss for a second time.
Beyond doubt, reasonably sober and politely dressed is the path to offi ce-party happiness. But the yawning boredom, you screech. There’s nothing to talk but shop. White wine’s your only hope! Well, of course, the situation is awkward. Wrenched from the work context, you have nothing to say to colleagues. You’re aware that office relationships are more formal than they might appear. You don’t want to be intrusive.
So why not try approaching a workmate as if you’ve never met them before? Hope that a sensitive approach might lead, if not to lifelong friendship then at least to an interesting evening. And what about networking? If you rub shoulders with an überboss, avoid any toadying carryon. Behave naturally; be direct. Don’t bore on. This person will no doubt have many others he or she must speak to.
Let’s hope bosses will be nice too and not blur the boundaries by getting drunk. Or by making horrid speeches denouncing the workforce as useless. Is it unbearably sanctimonious to suggest we might say thank you for the party, too, noting especially the unfortunate individual who had to organise it? This, rather than muttering about the plummeting quality of the vol-au-vents.
Please send your questions to Thomas. blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 3940 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
Feelings run high re: the Christmas menu. Leave out the sprouts, put the sausage meat stuffing in a different end of the bird, and there’ll be scenes.
I sympathise fully. Christmas dinner was never about change. That’s it. Merely hearing about loathsome aberrations in other families’ recipes sparks, in me, uncontrollable rage. ‘Roast potatoes, not mashed! No chestnut stuffing! You have it in the evening?!’
So, phone up potentially meddlesome guests in advance and pleasantly ensure that the kitchen remains the cook’s territory. It’s a whole lot better than arguing about it on the Big Day.
At the office party, I was such a disgrace last year. How can I improve this time round?
Melanie Sandwood, Basingstoke
Dear Melanie,
Unspeakable things can happen at festive office parties, far worse than at any ‘normal’ party. It’s the release of tension, the sudden absence of boundaries. The earnest office facade is hurled away. People want to prove what fabulous fun they really are. They get drunk or take to the dance floor. Or, if they’re very young or just irresponsible, they mistake the work’s seasonal function for a wild Friday night with their closest friends. But at the office party, you are at work, despite all indications to the contrary. There’s a call for behaviour.
The Lady has received an unusual press release from the British Water Cooler Association. Cling to your workplace water cooler through the party tempest, it advises, and you will be saved: saved from becoming inappropriately dressed, saved from ill-advised kisses, saved from all sorts of bad behaviour.
So how does the strategy work? Well, simply say, ‘I must visit the water cooler,’ and take time out. Drink deep, take as much water as you have had alcohol and soon you will be restored to a state of head-girl perfection – and ready to perform saintly acts, such as preventing the man from accounts from insulting the boss for a second time.
Beyond doubt, reasonably sober and politely dressed is the path to offi ce-party happiness. But the yawning boredom, you screech. There’s nothing to talk but shop. White wine’s your only hope! Well, of course, the situation is awkward. Wrenched from the work context, you have nothing to say to colleagues. You’re aware that office relationships are more formal than they might appear. You don’t want to be intrusive.
So why not try approaching a workmate as if you’ve never met them before? Hope that a sensitive approach might lead, if not to lifelong friendship then at least to an interesting evening. And what about networking? If you rub shoulders with an überboss, avoid any toadying carryon. Behave naturally; be direct. Don’t bore on. This person will no doubt have many others he or she must speak to.
Let’s hope bosses will be nice too and not blur the boundaries by getting drunk. Or by making horrid speeches denouncing the workforce as useless. Is it unbearably sanctimonious to suggest we might say thank you for the party, too, noting especially the unfortunate individual who had to organise it? This, rather than muttering about the plummeting quality of the vol-au-vents.
Please send your questions to Thomas. blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 3940 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
WHAT TO DO ABOUT… Christmas dinner?
There’s always someone who wants to make an innovation to the designated cook’s Christmas dinner. Do you remember how Bridget Jones’s mother locked herself in her bedroom on Christmas Day and Bridget was the only one who knew how to get her out? She whispered through the keyhole: ‘Your best friend is about to put flour in the Christmas gravy.’ That woman absolutely hurtled forth, almost before the door was open.Feelings run high re: the Christmas menu. Leave out the sprouts, put the sausage meat stuffing in a different end of the bird, and there’ll be scenes.
I sympathise fully. Christmas dinner was never about change. That’s it. Merely hearing about loathsome aberrations in other families’ recipes sparks, in me, uncontrollable rage. ‘Roast potatoes, not mashed! No chestnut stuffing! You have it in the evening?!’
So, phone up potentially meddlesome guests in advance and pleasantly ensure that the kitchen remains the cook’s territory. It’s a whole lot better than arguing about it on the Big Day.