Be the tortoise, not the hare, at this year's Xmas party

Created at 10:11 on Wed 25th Apr 2007

Submitted 11th April 2006 by Jenny Saxby

‘Tis the season to be jolly…but just how jolly should one get at the office Christmas party?

Put it this way, steaming into the bar at the drinks reception and hammering down shots is not going to endear you to anyone - except your deluded self for the rest of the night. So what’s the solution?

Well, of course, the reception is the time to gracefully quaff champagne and giggle politely at the bad jokes from that guy from accounts who thinks he's funny. Well, not everyone’s idea of fun but at least it puts the rest of the evening in perspective when the fun really begins.

Now comes dinner and, undoubtedly, the free wine. Just before you start clicking your fingers for the waiter to bring over a pint of Best, just think how that will sit with the glass or two of champers you tucked away at the beginning of the evening. Not good for most of us.

As long as you haven't resorted to slugging from the bottle after being sat next to the dullest person possible, whose name you forgot the moment it was uttered, you should still be able to count from 10 backwards, and be able to smile politely at the manager you always wanted to punch squarely in the face.

So, dinner has ended and you notice a few pitiful fools starting to loosen their tongues and laugh far too loudly. There is the odd stagger, as people get up for the loo and steady themselves for what is likely to be a perilous journey. You, however, should still have the dignity to walk calmly over to the mingling crowds around the dance floor who are starting to break off in order of drunkenness.

Now the evening really begins and you notice the odd shot going down as the trainees start their flaming sambuca competitions. One or two casualties will undoubtedly let themselves be known, either by telling everyone how much they love/hate them or simply showing the whole company they are the funniest thing since having your teeth drilled.

You may well by now be on the Jack Daniels or a pint, which isn’t too bad at this stage since, of course, you have had the meal to soak up the champers and wine. But don’t fall into that false sense of security just yet. Although many are starting to run around with shirt collars askew and dying to show all their colleagues their ‘real’ side, that ‘real’ side will still have to be apologised for the next day at work.

You have been patient all night, it’s about 11pm and you are having put up with passes from the less facially endowed members of your office. That girl from customer services who, although a little ample around the rear, is snogging her forth victim on the dance floor and that ‘funny’ accountant from the beginning of the evening is sitting alone dribbling in the corner, and you have just discovered you are starting to attract the attention of that person you've fancied for ages in the office. Surely this is the time for the dutch courage to shine though?

Patience my friends is a virtue. And yours is going to pay off. The cue is about to come. The impeccably dressed, impeccably mannered, very ambitious and very married manageress who has somehow developed a split right up the side of her skirt - showing her not unpleasing legs since she knows this is her best feature - is starting to make batty eyes at the boss.

The lights are at amber so get ready. Its 11:30pm and you are still politely making excuses to walk away from that person who was at your table but you still can’t remember for the life of you their name and no one else seems to know either.

The boss is now having to fight off the amorous advances of the manageress whose legs are now plainly visible almost to the knicker line. He is starting to drink his whiskies quickly simply to have the excuse to run to the bar, unless he is at the bar, in which case, the simple distraction of the barman is a welcome break from what are now unsubtle hints and innuendos from the manageress who can now barely stand without the staggering. IT’S DRINKING TIME!

You are behind all but the designated drivers and the tee-totallers, who no one listens too anyway because they approve of nothing. You have used your sober time carefully to chat to the office dish, who is now eating out your hand. The rest of the night is yours and you can do no wrong. You have proved yourself because no one else can remember if you are misbehaving now anyway!

The next working day the boss walks in and gives you that quick glance. You wonder if he noticed your quiet sobriety right up to the moment he had to use the rest of his wits to battle off advances from a 43 year old ambitious, but slightly too skinny manageress who is now on a little ‘vacation’. He did.

Happy New Year!