Office Partyby Tsepang Molefe / 12.12.2013
Then came that time of the fiscal when everybody has to develop amnesia about that rude email, missed targets, and corridor gossip. Office Christmas parties if not yet already, will soon be part of the meeting’s agenda. Just like last year and the years before, the focal point of it being the magic word…budget. But one thing for sure there won’t be any shortage of those beverages we adore and the drama they bring along…
Office desires and fantasies shall be fulfilled. It’s all fun and games until the next day when you find yourself stuck with the person you were smooching, just the two of you, next to a photocopy machine that refuses to do its day’s work. I personally used to enjoy these gatherings; I mean it’s a let your hair down and let the wild beast in you come out kind of gathering. The trick is making sure your behavior does not skip the borders of fun to the land of bizarre, shocking and embarrassing. What made me jump up and down like a kid in a candy store, was the anticipation of my boss proving to everyone in the office that he was indeed the hallmark of a donkey’s behind on and off the field. Praying and hoping he vomits in full view of everybody and then chokes, that would give me a good reason to party.
A friend of mine slaves for a well respected organisation. Like most offices, they have a receptionist who sits at the front desk as the first point of contact for any walk-ins. A quiet, english-mannered girl who keeps to herself. The type that if the second coming found us, would have a place reserved just for her in the kingdom. But during their Christmas party she displayed some hidden detail in her character, all in the name of the son. Apparently it all began like any normal office gathering: drumsticks, samosas and sausage rolls platter, until queen’s tears were served. A bottle of wine later – hey presto – out the window went the church girl image she was known for. She became friendlier and more vocal than normal. She was later rescued down a table where she was doing skeleton dance moves. But as we all know, the demon that comes with the consumption of Babylon water seems to find more power from the voice of reason. She went on to disclose classified office intelligence information about who was Vavi-ng who. To nobody’s surprise the front desk was vacant the following morning, amazing the timing of that flu attack… really?
At this one company I use to work for they would put Mandoza’s Nkalakatha on repeat, I could swear it was a Christmas carol. This song became a lets-meet-each-other-halfway at most multiracial parties. Some still feel that the song is second to Madiba in the efforts to erase racial boundaries. To hell with sticking to the theme, try and spin some Boney M, and you shall see the hangman’s noose. All in the name of the son.
* Illustrations © Zoey Johnston