2008 December | Tell Hetrick

Ah, the holiday office party. An annual offering that strikes fear into our hearts. What should I wear? May I bring a date? Who? What if I fly solo for the evening? Should I use the opportunity to rub elbows with the head honcho or will I look like a predatory brown-noser? Should I take full advantage of the open bar (after all, it is free)? And, of course, do I have to attend at all? (Yes, you do.)

Thousands of websites are devoted to this beloved workplace tradition. They offer all manner of guidance: politics over pâté, schmoozing when boozing, controlling boorish behavior in front of the boss, and avoiding the copy machine altogether. One website even offers a “virtual holiday office party” for work-at-home types, who are gluttons for punishment.

Over the years, I’ve attended all kinds of office parties, wearing red carpet-ready duds to huge blowouts where the door prizes included flat-screen TVs and cruises, donning jeans for small pitch-ins that featured chips and salsa.

No matter what the vibe or the decorum, the holiday office party is a chance to connect in a different way with people who share an extraordinary amount of your life. Some may be friends, even outside the office. Some only exchange the cursory “Hi” and a nod as you pass in the hallway. Many are your brothers- and sisters-in-arms, by your side through every business battle. Face it, they’re your work family. And, sometimes, we even prefer them to our own families.

This year, take advantage of the holiday office party to relax, enjoy one another’s company, and steer clear of shop talk for a brief moment in time. Don’t fret over who’s talking to whom, whether or not you should wear a tie, or your minor faux pas with the salad fork. After all, with so many businesses cutting back or eliminating their end-of-the-year affairs, simply having the opportunity to gather is reason enough to celebrate.

So what are you doing this year?

Last night, I left the office with a co-worker who was carrying a box from Amazon.com. “I just ordered these two days ago,” she said, “$250 worth of Christmas shopping already taken care of.” I told her that was great.

But here’s what I didn’t say: By buying those books from Amazon, she didn’t help the local owners and workers at locally owned Big Hat Books. Or the local workers at local branches of Borders or Barnes and Noble. Or even the local book section manager at the local Target store.

The economy sucks. And while I understand that means seeking bargains online and trying to eliminate the fuel cost inherent in mall-to-mall shopping missions, I beg you to be parochial.

That pension-dependent retiree needs that return-to-work Wal-Mart job. That laid-off factory worker needs those minimum-wage dollars for fetching shopping carts in the parking lot. That mom down the street needs those weekend hours at The Gap.

If, to save a few bucks or a few minutes, you choose to support some anonymous Jo or Joe in New London or New Delhi, all you’re doing is shooting your hard-working neighbor—and, consequently, yourself—in the proverbial foot.

So please, if you can afford to shop this holiday season, bless you and thank you—the economy needs you. But please, buy as if your friendly neighborhood job depends on it. It does.