Mandatory Social Gatherings

I have often asked myself what the point of mandatory social gatherings might be. I know the company line: it brings people together “outside of work” and in a “relaxed environment” and promotes a feeling of “family” and “team.” Really? Is it really that relaxed of an environment or a complete game of showmanship? 

I was forced into such an occasion yesterday evening. My job requires that I attend these tedious functions and pretend that I really want to spend my precious time outside of work with my boss and co-workers. It requires me to engage in the most terrifying and utterly confusing act of “small talk” with people that I have never met or rarely interact with- and act utterly exhausting and draining for an introvert such as myself. I wonder if I am somehow moulding myself more into this entity called “team” as I stare into space trying to think of some sort of triviality to discuss next. 

I arrived in style, of course. Bottle of beautiful California Zin wrapped in a brown paper bag so that I could dull my senses as quickly as possible to ease getting through the event. Maybe it would even inspire something to say to someone. Everyone is generally more awkward at these events anyway- spouses are present and a whole different dynamic invades the room. As a female in a predominantly male environment, I have to calculate every conversation I have with my male coworkers, boss, and subordinates, lest the spouse read too much into it. And of course there is constant, delicious, judgement and assessment going on- between co-workers, between spouses, between everyone. “Relaxed environment.”



My friend: Seghesio Zin



The “family environment” reminds me that I am alone right now, awkward. And as a lone female, I am somehow stamped as “threat” or something that doesn’t quite fit with the scenery. No significant other is by my side- he’s thousands of miles away. It’s lovely to have that accentuated. The hostess of the event- my boss’s wife- can’t talk to me about my kids- I have none and I intend to have none. There’s nothing to say to me about the wives issues or anything in that genre because I am not the wife of an officer. I am an officer. She might make a remark that I look nice, but that is as far as our conversation is ever really going to get. There is the pregnant silence, she smiles, and attends to her easier guests. And I confess, I probably don’t instantly invite easy conversation and warmth. I put my coat in a closet, find the kitchen, rummage through drawers, and find a wine tool. I am “making myself at home.” I won’t lie, I chug half a glass rapidly before I pour myself an appropriate glass with which to emerge into “public.” Ah, that is a damn good Zin. 

Before I go too far down a negative line, I do not mean to suggest that I dislike everyone at the engagement- or even anyone there for that matter. There are people I would pick and choose to hang out with in a smaller gathering- one that doesn’t have the taint of work all over it. But even my interaction with these people at this gathering is calculated, measured, restrained- because, in actuality, we ARE at work AND in the direct presence of bosses, subordinates, spouses- and being completely at ease is entirely out of the question. Then, what exactly is the point of the entire exercise?

Food is the next event. Now there is some comfort. Everyone will stuff their faces, less conversation will ensue, and thankfully the food will provide some source of conversation. And I can definitely talk about food. Step one: ask where the maker of the tiramisu was able to find lady fingers in Japan.  

Then come the public speeches. People are leaving and we are all supposed to have something to say to them. But what if I really have nothing to say? There’s nothing there to inspire me to make a public announcement in front of all…so I say nothing. Then I berate myself for saying nothing because I should say something- I mean, these people were all good at their jobs and contributed a great deal. By my saying nothing am I somehow slighting them? But my words can’t form and I stay in the back of the room. Where is the Zin? 

Two and a half hours after the event began, it reaches its conclusion. There are no more official moments to behold. I find my coat and slip out the front door as quickly as possible. And I mean, within two minutes of speech conclusion. It is a relief to be hit by the cold crisp air and I nearly run to my car- all along wondering if the goal of the occasion, whatever it was, was actually met.