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Current mood:  jolly Category: Writing and Poetry
Xmas Office Party
'It's that time of year again' the e-memo cheerily exclaimed '5.30 today is the time for us to let our hair down and celebrate all our hard efforts at this year's Xmas Office Party'. Sandra remembered last year's depressingly grim affair but knew that to take a rain check was not a wise move. The last person that dared to refuse the invite had been made redundant by the following March and it's an unspoken but common knowledge that it was no coincidence – company streamlining was the official reason given by management. It felt like another shady reminder of how quickly the recruitment consultants around her could soon be looking for another position themselves if they don't toe the line.
She looked around the office at the decorations that had been dusted down to live another outing. The imitation tree with spray on snow that had been on there so long it was now yellow and peeling off. The little red led lights draped over it flashed in time to their barely audible 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' melody that sounded more like somebody with the Dts playing a Stylophone. She sighed and her eyes rose as if looking for a better world inside her head but on route she caught sight of the balding, crumpled tinsel barely reflecting a sparkle. It seemed to sum it all up.
The buffet table didn't look too inspiring either. The few boxes of dry white wine for the ladies, and dozen or so cans for the boys and Maggie, the lesbian who works on the first floor, seemed surprisingly insufficient to get everybody as drunk as they always end up. She realised that it was probably less to do with the amount of alcohol and more to do with the fact that they always drink on an empty stomach and she could clearly see why as she scanned over the cling filmed platters of soggy sarnies and nibbles brought in earlier by the girl from the café around the corner.
In a few hours time that table was going to be swimming in spilled drinks, wine dripping from the box, and bits of floating lettuce drifting off the platters. Hopefully this year there won't be a repeat of last year's spectacle as the blue-eyed blonde work experience student projectile vomited over the whole surface, making the food unquestionably inedible and splattering the last of the clean plastic cups borrowed from the water dispenser.
'Beep beep beep' called out the timer on her Microsoft Outlook diary as it politely informed her five o'clock had arrived. Sandra pressed 'Shut Down', put the phones to answer machine, and prepared herself for the half hour getting ready time before the festivities would begin. All those evenings reading party season day-to-night articles in Cosmopolitan and the like were going to help her Cinderella herself out of the reliable beige Primark suit and stun her colleagues into realising that there was more to her than meets the eye on a 9 to 5 basis.
Clutching at her instant make over bag she hurriedly, but not too obviously, shuffled to the ladies hoping to commandeer a cubicle for her personal dressing room. 'Yes, thank you Jesus' she exclaimed as she realised she was the first to get there and take a pick. She slammed the door shut, flicked the lock, put the toilet seat down, and sat for a minute gloating in her triumph. But then remembering the company moto 'A minute idle is a minute wasted' she kicked back into action.
Doing her best in the confined space, she squeezed herself into the little black dress with a satin bow that she had bought for last year's party but had never dared wear fearing that people might have thought her above her receptionist status. It was only now that she realised all those nights in eating double chocolate cookies and watching reruns of Will and Grace on Living TV had taken their toll on her figure. Breathing in to allow some movement, she lent over and pulled out her compact mirror. Time to apply the frosted blusher, give her eyelashes an umpteenth coat of mascara, and try out the 'Rosy Cheeks in the Snow' red lipstick she'd bought recently after deciding the Scarlet one from last year was a bit too brash in the photos she'd seen later.
As she scrambled through her bag she noticed the Now That's What I Call Music 68 Cd that she'd bought for her god daughter's Christmas present. She had decided to bring it along just in case she got the opportunity to slip it in the portable player and make it the party soundtrack. Come what may she was going to try her hardest because for some reason, usually Geoff the manager from HR's insistence, the same party mix Cd has been used every year since she started. But then again it was fun watching the Agadooers pushing pineapples and shaking trees and even better when they all lined up sitting on the floor, the girls trying to coyly to pull down their hitched up skirts and hide their thongs while the guys, and Maggie, busily recovered the change spilling out of their trouser pockets as they all leant from left to right trying to synchronise with Oops Upside Your Head.
Knowing that she was always at a loss to know how her hair could be improved and definitely not opting for the festive glitter accessories to slide on, clip on, or wrap around she decided to leave it be and make her ears deliver the finishing touch. She replaced her studs with some eye-catching chandelier drop earring that resembled falling snowflakes. They even tinkled as she swished her head. Perfect for the occasion.
She pressed out the creases in her satin shoes and was chuffed with how well they co-ordinated with the bow on her dress as she slipped them on.
As she stuffed everything into her bag she could hear all the mumbling, whispering, and cackling on the other side of the door from all the other girls having to make do with getting ready in the communal space around the sink. Even though she was aware that some of the whispering was likely to be about her she really didn't care anymore. She had spent too long trying hard to make friends and realised that she was never going to get on in the company by relying on good personal relationships. With that in mind she reached back in to her bag and picked out her new mobile phone and reminded herself how to work the video on it. Hopefully this year she would actually get to capture something like last year's performance when she saw Geoff from HR dressed as Santa getting an early Christmas present in the boardroom from the work experience student five minutes before the vomiting incident. Truth be known, that was probably the thing that unsettled the poor students stomach.
As Sandra opened the door she couldn't help thinking how next year might be the perfect time to ask for a transfer to another department. Human Resouces maybe.
Disclaimer: All the characters in this story are completely fictitious. Any similarity to the thousands of office workers, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
6:45 PM
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