Office Life

It's a slow day for me at the office today, hence the post. Although, if I'm really honest, I am actually not writing this in my blog at all - today's ramblings are being captured in a new outlook message, designed to appear as company business rather than a gross waste of my employer's time.

Last night I went for end of year drinks with my team (well, my extended team anyway - it's confusing even for me, so I will not attempt to describe here who I actually had drinks with). It was good to get to chat to people outside of work, although I did express my concerns to fellow PA's S and L (hereafter known as the Gossip Gaggle) that after a few toots coupled with everyone looking and acting different to their work personas, I really may not recognize anyone in the morning. My concern was misplaced however, as the event turned out to be a very civilised affair. Everyone arrived late (of course) and stood around in little huddles according to rank, and rather than drink flowing like rivers and dirty jokes poking their way through decomposing veneers, we all had a nice little chat and a bit of a laugh.

England - or maybe it's just London - is legendary for its debaucherous office parties. Think Coupling or that silly show with Denise van Outen. I've heard many a tale of office Christmas parties told with pride and warmth, the way you'd speak about a favourite child. My last company had a few fabulous stories involving several litres of Pimms and an over-enthusiastic staff member getting their rock star on at the karaoke (a firm British favourite), ending in a stage slide (sking on one's knees as opposed to the more reckless stage dive) and a face plant. Whatever the occasion, the Brits can be trusted to furiously spurn all social etiquette and vomit into the flower pots at the end of the evening. They're messy, brazen, drink-sodden and usually resemble characters from Ab Fab at the end of the night, but you have to give them their due: when they're given free booze, they know how to party.

The affair I attended last night was sadly not one of the evenings that set off a chain of gossipy e-mails the next day. The managing director bought the pre-requisite round and supplied a few bowls of chips and popcorn, but the highlight of the evening was the heated discussion about whether chips should be dipped in either tomato sauce or mayonnaise or both (you know you're in England when...). Not that I didn't enjoy myself - I did. It's just that I have my heart set upon attending one of these historical parties that are as much a part of English culture as pubs. I know they're usually more commonplace around Christmas time and bank holidays, and I suppose I couldn't expect everyone to get legless as it was only Wednesday evening. I've since been informed (rather boastfully) by our IT department that their parties always end up with everyone in the gutter, and have been kindly invited to attend, so perhaps I'll give that a try. I'm a bit scared though - IT departments here are laws unto themselves.

The other grand thing about office life in London is tea and cake. There is a never-ending supply of cakes, biscuits, chocolates and sweets on multiple desks at any given time, and all employees are encouraged to help themselves, presumingly so everyone gets fat together. In this way, equal opportunities are made available for all colours and classes, and no one person can lord it over the rest of the office in skinny jeans and midriff tops. I've just had a rather delicious piece of carrot cake, and am currently eyeing out the blueberry with cream cheese frosting sitting enticingly on the desk a row away from me. Willpower and diet are not words in the greater British vocabulary, and good on them for it. Even with the incessant beer and chip cosumption, the average weight in Britian is a hundred million pounds less than in America.

Finally, the last thing I love about office life is - wait for it - the friendliness. Yes, you, like I, probably had an impression of the Brits as posh, emotionless, very correct individuals who's lust for life and personalities in general have been squashed over the years to make room for that stiff upper lip. Well, you couldn't more be wrong. Of course, there are still people like that, and I maintain that South Africans overall are a much friendlier bunch, but this is because we are chilled out to the point of being catatonic - the Brits are friendly, but in an efficient kind of way. In every place I've worked bar one, people have gone out of their way to be nice and to make sure I've felt included and welcome. They may be complete bastards if you get in their way on the tubes, but in general, the impression we have of the Brits as pompous chaps who lack personality the way they lack sunshine is most definitely incorrect. We can't blame the weather on the people. And speaking of which, this summer is set to be the hottest in British history. :-)