Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist

The corporate holiday party. 

A staple in the corporate world to celebrate the upcoming holidays, the end of one fiscal year and the start of another, and a brutal reminder that although we are all drinking way too much alcohol and making far too many jokes about the current workload, come 9 a.m. tomorrow, we will have to face the consequences of drinking way too much alcohol and deal with the workload we all shared oh so many laughs and eyerolls about. 

Corporate holiday parties can come in all different shapes and sizes. There’s the elaborate rented-out ballrooms equipped with flying trapeze artists, mermaids in a pool, and cocktail attire as far as the eye can see; there’s the more cost efficient holiday parties taking place at offices, a chance for remote workers to cosplay as hybrid for a day, and there’s the remote corporate holiday parties supplied with do-it-yourself cocktail drinks and a quick prayer for your internet connection. 

No matter what your corporate holiday party looks like, there is one, distinct element that makes a corporate holiday party a corporate holiday party: your coworkers. 

Ah, coworkers. Those mystical beings that you often interact with and speak with more than your own family, but then realize your family would not expect you to gleefully join a 4:30 p.m. meeting on a Friday. 

Being a mostly-remote worker, and an entry level worker at that, my expectations with these people I call my coworkers was exactly that and nothing more: fellow employees at the same company. No room to dig into personal life, create personal relationships, no room for jokes or pictures or sharing or specifically curated emojis and GIFs. Just fellow employees working towards the same common goal: a paycheck and 5 p.m. 

This task was easy to stay committed to. I do my work, they answer my questions, I help out with requests, I pivot tables, I write emails, they put up with my obnoxious amount of exclamation marks. I make sure there is no room to dig into personal life, create personal relationships, no room for jokes or pictures or sharing or specifically curated emojis and GIFs. This is just work. A means to an end. 

But then, the team outings start. The rare office visits start. The camera-off button requests for some much needed time off. I begin to touch base with other coworkers from other teams, my Microsoft Teams pings begin to increase its bandwidth, I begin to move the needle with my emoji and GIF use, sidebars filled with gossip about work crushes begin to emerge. 

The line gets blurred. My worst nightmare seems to be coming true — I might actually like these people. 

I try not to get too ahead of myself. I attempt to convince myself that by sharing my dating horror stories with my team, my intense love of Timothée Chalamet, my squeals of joy when Joe Burrow is on the screen at the team Monday Night Football outing is simply just me being friendly. 

I assure myself that consistently talking about the Wicked soundtrack, that sharing a myriad of “LOL’s” and “LMAO’s,” that pinging one another on the side during meetings, that looking forward to the next team outing is merely happenchance. 

Sure, maybe I’m starting to enjoy the presence of my own team, but there’s no way I could enjoy interacting in-person with my broader coworkers over staring at their inanimate Team’s profile picture. Not. A. Chance. 

As we pivot and circleback to the corporate holiday party, and as I continue to exhaust my use of corporate jargon, the opportunity to test this hypothesis of preferred work model is presented on a silver platter. 

Originally intending to stay glued to my team’s side during this supersized synergy, after a heavy-handed mixed cocktail concoction, served by none other than members of our C-Suite, and possibly a couple trips to the self serve margarita machine, and of course after touching base with the sushi sous chef, my actual worst nightmare seemed to be coming to true — I might actually like all these people. 

My fellow employees at the same company I work for seemed to transform in front of my eyes. No longer was I sidebaring with associates on the strategy team, or looping in supervisors on another account, or picking the brain of the director on the brand team, I was now chatting with Jim, Michael, Pam, and Angela, (I’m not good with names) exchanging facts about personal life, creating personal relationships, making jokes, showing pictures, oversharing about my life. These were now real people. And unfortunately, these were now real people that I liked.

While I absolutely cherish my work attire being able to include sweats, and while I hope my company doesn’t see this article and view it as motivation to mandate in-office working, I suppose I like these people enough to brave the L.A. traffic from time to time to be able to interact and laugh and sidebar with them in person. Although, I will not hesitate to go back on my word if I get one more Microsoft Teams invite for a 4:30 p.m. meeting on a Friday.