The dreaded office party
Shy Helen searches for any excuse to avoid her company’s Christmas bash
Arustling noise made me look up from my desk. It was a welcome distraction from reading a boring report. Some of the girls from the next office were putting up a poster advertising the company’s Christmas party.
“Helen,” they called out to me. “Hope you’re coming to the bash – it’s next Friday. Don’t forget!”
They’re a nice bunch of girls and they meant it kindly, but I’ve never really felt part of the gang. I usually make an excuse to avoid social events as I don’t like to leave Dad at home on his own. He had to take early retirement after a fall from a ladder left him with a back injury.
He’s often in pain but, that said, he often makes me laugh and is definitely my best friend. I can confide in him and he always gives me honest advice. I knew that he’d insist I should go to the Christmas party and encourage me to buy a pretty new dress and have my hair styled.
When I arrived home that evening I started cooking our dinner – spaghetti bolognese which we both enjoy. Dad likes to hear about my day while we eat.
I usually find a funny remark to share with him or maybe have a moan about my supervisor. He knows all the characters in my workplace. I mentioned the party, adding: “I don’t think I’ll bother going. They will probably all be drinking a lot and getting silly.”
Dad put down his fork and spoon. He said: “Listen, love, I’m telling you this for your own good. You’re not yet 30 and you stay at home far too much. I hope you aren’t telling yourself that you stay in for my benefit because that’s just an excuse. It would make me much happier to think you were out, having fun.”
“Oh Dad, I don’t think the office party will be fun. Anyway, we usually get a takeaway and watch a film on Friday,” I pleaded.
But Dad wasn’t going to be put off. He said: “Well, if it isn’t fun at least you’ll have some stories to tell me. And treat yourself to something new to wear.”
When I went to work the next day, I still hadn’t made up my mind about the party. I read the poster. A coach had been hired to take us to the hotel where there would be a Champagne reception followed by dinner and dancing.
It did sound tempting and I realised that I’d like to go, but doubts crept into my mind. Who would I sit next to on the coach? What were the other girls going to wear? I didn’t want to make too much effort, or too little. Remembering what Dad had said, I impulsively added my name to the list.
Friday soon came round and, like the other girls, I’d brought my make-up and outfit to work. At five o’clock I closed down my computer and headed for the ladies’ loo. Most of them were already in there, getting ready. The basins were strewn with hair tongs, eyelash curlers and false nails. The atmosphere was giggly and full of anticipation and soon I was laughing and joking with the rest.
At the hotel we were greeted by waiters with trays of Champagne. In the middle of the lobby there was a huge Christmas tree decorated in silver and white, shimmering with fairy lights. Sipping Champagne in our sparkly outfits, we felt like royalty.
After dinner, the disco started and the atmosphere became more raucous. With the rest of our crowd, I sang along to all
‘It would make me happier if you were out having fun’
the corny Christmas songs that everyone loves. I was having a fantastic time!
The atmosphere was giggly and full of anticipation
Carried away by the festive spirit, I looked round for someone I could ask to dance. I spotted Keith, one of the junior accountants, still sitting at the dinner table wearing an expression I recognised all too well. His fixed smile said to anyone watching, ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me’, but his eyes were sad.
With a new-found confidence, I sat down next to him. His face lit up. It turned out that he didn’t really enjoy dancing but, no matter, we talked. We found we shared the same taste in films and enjoyed country walks. He asked: “Why don’t you come out with my rambling group on Sunday?” We exchanged phone numbers.
When I got home after midnight I was surprised to find Dad was still up. I told him about my evening and about Keith.
“I’m so glad you had a good time,” he smiled. “And I’ve got something to tell you, too – I’ve been waiting for the right moment. A few months ago I met a really lovely lady at the garden centre. We’ve been meeting for coffee every week and I would like her to join us for Christmas lunch. How would you feel about that, Helen?”
He looked at me anxiously. We usually had Christmas lunch, just the two of us, followed by a game of Scrabble. His news brought tears to my eyes. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed the change in him before. Perhaps I recognised it now because I had my own inner glow.
I hugged him and said: “I’ve a feeling this will be the best Christmas in a long time, Dad. I just hope your friend doesn’t beat us both at Scrabble!”