In which a Christmas party invitation comes unexpectedly
I've been to a few company Christmas parties. There was the one in Topeka after which Bret broke my heart, and the NewTech Christmas party. That was the one at which I sort of met Will Wheaton and at which my intense dislike of Penn Jillette was developed. The early Media Center parties are memorable; they were held in the studios at 4100 E. Dry Creek Road (the only thing that stayed the same in my 9 years of tenure was the address). There were open bars, live music and a buffet supper to die for. The later years at what was then the AT&T Digital Media Center were notable for the lack of Christmas cheer. This year's party was at Red Rocks, which is a huge difference; in spite of persistent doomsday prophesies by management, I guess business is getting better at CMC.
In general, the NewTech party far exceeded the others in scope. Chris and I were invited by Candice, a co-worker who was attached to one of the developers at NewTech. Our friend Austen came along. I suppose the guys mostly remember the women in their skin-tight evening gowns. Well, Chris always waxes poetic about the early morning gourmet made-to-order omelet bar. It was pretty much all open bar, so you could drink whatever you wanted; the buffet supper was great. Part of the ballroom had been made into an “ice” cave, and elves offered hors d’ oeuvres. There were techies there, celebrities, and foreigners. After all the Video Toaster was the first consumer video editor, and the possibilities for implementation seemed endless.
I think that the second on my list would be the party I attended last night. The station I’m working at, WWSB in Sarasota, FL invited us to attend. I didn’t have party clothes, and neither did my co-worker Janis – she’d known about the invitation, but had forgotten not only to tell me about it but to to bring fancy dress for herself. Luckily my current corporate-Gothique wardrobe moves from day to night pretty well. I added a purple scarf to black slacks and a surplice-bodice v-necked sweater, and was ready to go. Still I was underdressed. The ladies at the station had really gone all-out, and most were dressed in formal evening- or cocktail-wear. Janis and I really enjoyed watching the ladies. Heck, we see men in suits and ties every day, but the ladies really looked great.
Held at what is considered Sarasota’s finest restaurant, party-goers were met with an atrium lighted with strings of little white lights under which was situated one of the party’s two open bars. Servers offered egg rolls and crab cake hors d’ oeuvres. The ballroom was set with about 15 tables for eight, and two huge Christmas trees loomed in the corners. The east third of the hall was occupied with the food tables. One held a variety of antipasti – Caesar salad, roasted peppers, artichoke hearts in balsamic vinegar, cantaloupe and honeydew wrapped in prosciutto, and a balsamic vinegar-dressed salad of mozzarella, grape tomatoes, and onions. Another table was all sushi, a third was roast beef and turkey (a real bird, not a processed roll) and a fourth was cheese ravioli in a pesto cream sauce. Finally, on the west side of the ballroom, the desert table languished.
In the middle of it all, a dance floor had been assembled, complete with disco lights and DJ. Manny, the general manager, welcomed everyone to the party, with the offer of free drinks all night and a cab to take people home who had over-indulged. After stuffing ourselves on all of the good food, the presents were presented – one for every employee, ranging from $100 gas cards to flat screen monitors, Play Stations, and time off with lodging at a resort. Again Manny offered cab rides to the over-indulgent. The traditional outtakes and bloopers reel was a complete hoot! My face still hurts from laughing. And then the dancing commenced.
You know, I haven’t done any “modern” dancing for years. No fan of smoky bars, I haven’t had the chance to get out there on the dance floor. I don’t know the moves. I don’t know the music. I feel old. I felt conspicuous. But I did dance a little, and it felt good. There was some Latin music, and some of the younger folks did a little tango-like dance that was sensuous and lovely – I said that I wanted to learn that. Chris seems to be game; maybe we can find lessons.
By 10:00 the evening was over as far as I was concerned. Manny had offered cab fare for the third time, and my cold was getting to me. I knew that I’d regret staying up so late when I was sick. I told my co-worker Janis that it was time for me to go home.
In general, the NewTech party far exceeded the others in scope. Chris and I were invited by Candice, a co-worker who was attached to one of the developers at NewTech. Our friend Austen came along. I suppose the guys mostly remember the women in their skin-tight evening gowns. Well, Chris always waxes poetic about the early morning gourmet made-to-order omelet bar. It was pretty much all open bar, so you could drink whatever you wanted; the buffet supper was great. Part of the ballroom had been made into an “ice” cave, and elves offered hors d’ oeuvres. There were techies there, celebrities, and foreigners. After all the Video Toaster was the first consumer video editor, and the possibilities for implementation seemed endless.
I think that the second on my list would be the party I attended last night. The station I’m working at, WWSB in Sarasota, FL invited us to attend. I didn’t have party clothes, and neither did my co-worker Janis – she’d known about the invitation, but had forgotten not only to tell me about it but to to bring fancy dress for herself. Luckily my current corporate-Gothique wardrobe moves from day to night pretty well. I added a purple scarf to black slacks and a surplice-bodice v-necked sweater, and was ready to go. Still I was underdressed. The ladies at the station had really gone all-out, and most were dressed in formal evening- or cocktail-wear. Janis and I really enjoyed watching the ladies. Heck, we see men in suits and ties every day, but the ladies really looked great.
Held at what is considered Sarasota’s finest restaurant, party-goers were met with an atrium lighted with strings of little white lights under which was situated one of the party’s two open bars. Servers offered egg rolls and crab cake hors d’ oeuvres. The ballroom was set with about 15 tables for eight, and two huge Christmas trees loomed in the corners. The east third of the hall was occupied with the food tables. One held a variety of antipasti – Caesar salad, roasted peppers, artichoke hearts in balsamic vinegar, cantaloupe and honeydew wrapped in prosciutto, and a balsamic vinegar-dressed salad of mozzarella, grape tomatoes, and onions. Another table was all sushi, a third was roast beef and turkey (a real bird, not a processed roll) and a fourth was cheese ravioli in a pesto cream sauce. Finally, on the west side of the ballroom, the desert table languished.
In the middle of it all, a dance floor had been assembled, complete with disco lights and DJ. Manny, the general manager, welcomed everyone to the party, with the offer of free drinks all night and a cab to take people home who had over-indulged. After stuffing ourselves on all of the good food, the presents were presented – one for every employee, ranging from $100 gas cards to flat screen monitors, Play Stations, and time off with lodging at a resort. Again Manny offered cab rides to the over-indulgent. The traditional outtakes and bloopers reel was a complete hoot! My face still hurts from laughing. And then the dancing commenced.
You know, I haven’t done any “modern” dancing for years. No fan of smoky bars, I haven’t had the chance to get out there on the dance floor. I don’t know the moves. I don’t know the music. I feel old. I felt conspicuous. But I did dance a little, and it felt good. There was some Latin music, and some of the younger folks did a little tango-like dance that was sensuous and lovely – I said that I wanted to learn that. Chris seems to be game; maybe we can find lessons.
By 10:00 the evening was over as far as I was concerned. Manny had offered cab fare for the third time, and my cold was getting to me. I knew that I’d regret staying up so late when I was sick. I told my co-worker Janis that it was time for me to go home.
posted by Melanie Unruh-Bays at
2:56 PM
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