I went to a party the other night: it was a corporate sponsored event, so at least I knew everybody there. Not being one to party often (the annual departmental winter celebration–we can’t call it a Christmas party anymore–usually doesn’t include a dance floor or alcohol), I found this particular event to be more fun than I had anticipated. The music was loud, the food warm if not extremely tasty, and the company at my table all enjoyed the atmosphere. I was seated with my departmental boss, my administrative boss, two fellow administrators, three former co-workers and a manager. It was an honor to feel so highly rated that I was put into their seating plan.
The table was packed with serviceware, and as always the policies of etiquette came into play as people tried to recall on what side they should start taking ownership of what they would be dining with; ultimately somebody winds up with two napkins while another person has none. Maybe the caterers should just start putting the silverware and napkins in the center of the plates to erase any doubt.
The music was all urban/disco/popular standard fare, and the dance moves were all the same as well. Even though we all admit to the guilty pleasure of watching Dancing With the Stars, we’re all guilty of busting the same “swing and step” moves when it comes to our own performance. At least nobody broke a bone.
It was over too fast: four hours of bumping elbows and dilating pupils on the receiving end of digital camera flashes. Hope it’s as much fun next year.
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