The big night had arrived. I checked the equipment neatly laid out on my desk. Welder’s mask, and the respirator to wear under it. A dozen medical face masks in case the welder’s mask and/or respirator malfunctioned. A four gallon jug of hand sanitizer. Medical booties to put over my shoes.
I was all set for the Holiday Office Party 2020 style.
No virtual event for us, we were plowing ahead with a scaled down in-person bash. Well, kind of a bash. Nothing really felt like a bash these days.
I pulled up the invite from our crack Human Engagement team.
Hi all,
We can all use a little holiday cheer this year, right? So we’re planning a small, in-person holiday party for the team that has been in the office, as well as a handful of colleagues who expressed interest in joining the group. The rest of the team is welcome to participate in a virtual holiday party where you can drink your own real drinks in an online fake party setting.
We hope the gatherings will recognize the extraordinary efforts of the team this year while having the minimal amount of fun permissible during a global pandemic.
For the in-person crowd, once at the venue, you’ll be assigned to a small group based on the state’s guidelines for gatherings. If that number is reduced prior to the party, lots will be drawn to get rid of a few of you.
Groups will rotate into the party tent at 15 minute intervals. Once the air horn sounds it’s out, out, out to make way for the next group. You can then “air-out” for a bit in the cold before your group is rotated back in for more fun.
Cheers!
I looked up as Wilson strolled into the office. In a tuxedo. With a matching face mask, Cumberbund and bow tie.
“Did I miss something?” I asked.
Wilson shook his head. “No, it’s part of my strategy for getting Roz’s attention at the party,” he said.
“By being over-dressed?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it works,” he said.
Wilson was on to something. The holiday party was the last opportunity to suck up this year. And opportunities for genuine, good old fashioned schmoozing had been non-existent since March.
“Why do you have a welder’s mask?” he asked.
“It may be a tent, but it’s still an enclosed space. What’s the ventilation going to be like? A regular face mask or face shield may not cut it.”
Wilson nodded, but really didn’t understand.
“Maybe you could help me get my sanitizer on,” I said.
Wilson held the big sanitizer jug against my back while I slipped into the harness and tightened the straps to hold it in place.
“Sani-gel?” he asked.
“It was cheap,” I said. “And the label said it’s the most effective sanitizer on the market.”
Wilson stepped back and looked at me.
“You look like an exterminator,” he said.
“Thank you. You look like a waiter.”
I took the thin tube attached to the top of the jug, looped it over my collar and threaded it down my sleeve.
“I’ll have the tube right here, resting in the palm of my hand all night. A little yank and I get a squirt of sanitizer. No time spent looking around for the stuff, which leaves me with more time to suck up.”
We arrived at the party and strolled to the check-in area where temperatures were being taken, IDs checked and health questions asked. A nice event planning type lady gave us instructions about how to conduct ourselves inside the tent.
“You’ll see circles outlined in white on the turf, think of them as socially-distanced party pods. You’ll each take a circle and you can chat and mingle from there with your colleagues six-feet away.”
We were assigned to a group of mostly co-workers we hadn’t seen since March. Wilson and I were asked about life in the office. Were the plants still living? Was the break room open? Had we ransacked Roz’s office? Why was Wilson in a tux, and what was the tank on my back for?
Wilson caught my attention and gave me a little nod like he wanted to talk and we moved off to the side.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“That many of our colleagues have gained dangerous amounts of weight?” I asked.
“Besides that,” he said. “We’re with the B-team.”
I glanced at the group. Hmmm, mostly entry to mid-level folks. He was right.
“Andy the Suck-up is behind this,” I said.
“I bet he put the groups together,” Wilson said. “And he’s probably inside right now. We need to get in there.”
I glanced around for ideas and in a startling development had one right away.
“Okay, look,” I said. “Over there by the side of the big tent by the black drapes, where the caterers are hanging out. They’re all wearing tuxes. Mix in with them and get inside.”
“What about you?” he asked.
I tapped my bag with my welder’s mask. “I think an exterminator was just called to the company party,” I said.
We wished each other luck and Wilson set off to blend in with the caterers. I slipped around the back of the tent and in no time had the welder’s mask and respirator on. It was unnervingly dark behind the mask and the visor was scratched and blurry. I made a mental note to contact the eBay seller and express my displeasure with the set.
I stretched my arm and got a little squirt of sanitizing gel from the tube in my palm and scrubbed my hands. At least that set-up worked well.
I made my move, slipping around the corner of the tent and heading to the entrance by the caterer’s station. I tried to focus on what dim lights I could see through the visor, but it was like driving in the rain at night with no headlights.
I reached the area where the caterers stood around slacking off and gave a little wave like I knew where I was going. Then I walked into a pole. There was the loud ding of metal hitting metal and my head snapped back.
At least the mask was sturdy. I’d mention that to the seller as well.
I stumbled forward and was immediately tangled in drapes. I waved my arms like a guy fighting a cobweb in the basement. I was in a pitched battle to free myself. Everything was black and I started flailing thinking I was falling through space. Then there was a loud rip and finally everything cleared up.
I was free, and I could see the party now.
And what a party it was. Music cranking, candles burning and colleagues dancing by themselves in their little circles like go-go dancers from a seventies movie. But why was Wilson rushing toward me?
“What on earth are you doing?” he asked. “What the heck is with the cape? You look like Darth Vader.”
“Cape?” I asked. Damn, the drapes.
“And you sound like Darth Vader through that respirator thing,” he said.
I noticed most of the place was staring at the two of us, the waiter and the Star Wars character.
“Oh no,” Wilson said. “Here comes Roz, and Andy.”
“Ok, look,” I said, “you just explain that I was…”
I stopped talking because Wilson had bolted like a rat off a ship as the bow drops below the surface.
And now Roz and Andy were closing in on me.
“Can we help you?” Andy asked, in his tough-guy-take-charge-showing-off voice.
I stared to speak but damn if Wilson wasn’t right. I did sound like Vader.
“Annnnnnddddyyyy” I said, thrusting out my hand to slow him.
It was a harmless little gesture, unless it triggers a long squirt of Sani-gel, which it did. The gel shot through the air and pelted Andy square in the eyes.
“Ow, ow,” he yelled, covering his face and spinning around with a touch too much drama for an eye burn.
“It’s only gel,” I tried to say.
“Ahhhh, I’m going to hell,” Andy screamed, racing around with his hands over his eyes.
I turned to Roz as Andy spun into a table and knocked over trays of drinks and plates.
“Rhhoooooooz,” I said.
“Aaaaaaaaahhh,” she yelled and covered her eyes. “Don’t blind me. Please don’t blind me.”
She screamed and turned and ran smack into Wilson carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
Roz spun off him like she needed a few more yards for a first down, and promptly plowed into Stephens who was dancing by himself in his little circle.
He caught her in an embrace and they fell to the turf. It was awkward watching them roll around. I felt like wishing Stephens well in wherever his career was going to take him next.
I turned to try and slip out of the chaos when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Wilson. With a tray.
“Pig in a blanket?” he asked.