The company holiday event: personal worst

There may be some who actually believe that this is "the most wonderful time of the year", but when it comes to the holiday party, I find it hard to believe that there's anyone who actually looks forward to and enjoys this type of event. I am, of course, projecting my own feelings here, but existential dread is not too strong a term for my feeling about the company party.

I think it all goes back to high school, when the nuns would periodically stage some event or other that was always off the mark - girls in the 1960's were really not going to get all that excited about a Mario Lanza movie. When the Mario Lanza movie was announced, and we did not squeal with delight to the degree that only an appearance by the Beatles might have merited, the nuns became miffed. They went through the however many stages you go through - hurt feelings, disappointed, completely pissed off - and always end with a threat to never give us a treat again.

Since even a Mario Lanza movie was better than half of our classes, we bucked up, and learned to give a wild, cheering, standing O when some special event was announced.

We had a term for it: obligatory fun.

Obligatory fun is precisely how I viewed most company holiday events - especially the big production numbers where you had to get dressed up, drive miles in the dark into the back arse of nowhere, and circulate miserably and drink-deprived (you had to drive back out of the back arse of nowhere in the dark, after all) until you felt you'd seen and be seen enough to duck out.

My personal worst, however, was not a major company hoo-hah. It was a small appreciation lunch I took my small appreciated group out to one Christmas. Since I didn't want anyone getting all in a knot about a grab, let alone having anyone feel they needed to gift the manager - one admin I had once gave me  a Thomas Kincaid book; a few months later, I laid her off - not for that reason, of course, but it didn't help - I suggested that we all bring in a couple of used books we liked, put them in the middle of the table, and have everyone pick out the ones they were interested in.

Who'd a thunk this could backfire.

At that time, I had a very small group - 5 or 6 people, and only one man among them.

Well, didn't the lone guy bring in his girlfriend's old nursing GYN text book. Lame, but whatever....

In the car on the way back to work, I had as a passenger a young woman in the group who had made no bones about the fact that she resented this guy, mainly because she'd figured out he (deservedly) made more than she did.

Anyway, "Maisie" mentioned that she was offended by the fact that "Lon" had brought in a gynecology book.

I responded that, sure, it was a bit awkward, but that he hadn't meant anything by it. And, given some of the things that this young woman had told me, I was more than a little surprised that she was so offended.

Here's what hadn't offended Maisie:

She had told me that, before she joined my team, a very powerful, senior executive in the organization had told her a hilarious joke that involved Monica Lewinsky, oral sex, and Jews - a tri-fecta of offense that she found just a riot.

When she relayed this story to me, I told her that, if this had happened on my watch (i.e., while she was in my group), I would have felt obligated to go to HR with it.

Then I let it rest.

Fast forward a few weeks.

I receive a call from HR, informing me that I would be paid a visit by the EEOC police, because someone had (anonymously) complained about something wildly offensive that had occurred at my little holiday lunch.

The story gets more involved, but fast forward a few weeks, and "Lon" is brought up on charges, or whatever they call it. Anyway, he gets this warning that becomes a black mark on his permanent file, and, I believe, had to go through some sensitivity training.

Meanwhile, I'm not supposed to know that "Maisie" was the one who'd dimed "Lon", and couldn't say anything to either of them about the incident. Let alone do anything. Or even talk about the situation to anyone other than HR.

Meanwhile, "Maisie" - bless her heart - starts going from bad to worse.

Fast forward a few months.

"Maisie" is apprehended at the fax machine - by someone in HR - faxing a list everyone in our business unit (title, phone, e-mail) to a recruiter friend of hers.

"Maisie" is fired.

Entire group breathes sigh of relief.

Next holiday lunch for now much larger, more equally boy-girl balanced team, goes off without a hitch. But I did forego the idea of a book swap.

Company holiday party? No, thanks.