Christmas dinner at work

I have seen and heard many a ridiculous, and outright laughable, things at work. People politics, power and pompousness. But this is one has topped it all. At least for now.

About two weeks ago I was invited by 'The Management' (with capital 'T' and capital 'M') to a Christmas dinner. The purpose is to "express appreciation for all the good work" that has been done by the employees. Further, it will be "pleasant gathering [...] to strengthen collegial bonds", especially since getting to know your colleagues "on the homefront" is important "for a pleasant and balanced working environment". Of course.

I was enthused. Until I received the official invitation.

Apparently, it has been decided by 'The Management' that it will be chique event. The Management commandeth the dress code be "tenue de ville, gala, cocktail, tie-and-coat", everything under the motto "dress to impress" or "over the top". Already a turn-off for any (literally and metaphorically) red-blooded SOAS graduate indoctrinated to distrust petty little bourgeois exploits.

Then I realised you could bring a 'partner'. If someone I knew well was there, it probably would just be bearable. And perhaps, I thought to myself, it would not hurt to do a little personal PR and get to know my colleagues a little better. Besides, for all the work and time I put into my job, I deserve more than what I make.

So I rang the people in charge of organising the Christmas dinner, and told them I would like to attend, and bring a girlfriend along. I was asked whether there were any special dietary needs, and what our names were. I put down the phone, thinking I would be engaged on the evening of December 20th.

Moments later, I was called. "Is she the girlfriend, or a girlfriend?"

Curiously, I replied, honestly, "Just a girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, then you can't bring her. It has to be a partner."

I was surprised at the response. Since when are you only allowed to attend a Christmas dinner organised by your employer when the person you can bring along is a "partner"? "Sorry," I replied, expecting to feel the ridicule rise, "may I ask what the reason for that is?"

"It was a decision by The Management," was the explanation. As if the revelation of an untouchable supreme being is accepted and respected without questions. What is a partner anyways? "Someone with whom you have a deeply committed relationship". Ridicule peaked, and I did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Outrageous.

I listened to the secretary on the other side of the line explain the reasons why, and I felt she was not too happy about the decision either. A "deeply committed relationship"... the words echoed in my ears, like the annoying buzz of a mosquito while you are trying to sleep. I wondered to myself what that meant, as the image of a table seated with single-tons, surrounded by lavishly dressed and pompously made-up couples parading the room with glasses of champagne and polished silverware appeared before me...

Discriminatory.

Since when did my workplace decide who I can and cannot bring to a dinner party, the very purpose of which is to show appreciation for the hardwork I have been doing throughout these months? By what sacred decree is the hallowed definition of a "deeply committed relationship" stipulated? Are they going to probe into your private life? Are they going to ask how long you have been going out? How many times you have slept with one another? Or interrogate you on what the each person's role is in the relationship, just to decide whether you and your partner fall into the classification of what is "deeply committed"? Perhaps there will even be hired bouncers at the door trained for this purpose.

I regretted a little at my honesty, for if my friend and I were to just pretend that night we were (so-called) 'partners', no one would possibly know. But then again, why should I jeopardise my own personal integrity to play with their lovely little fabricated rules? I thought to myself the shocked and awed look on people's faces should I elegantly waltz in there hand in hand with a boyfriend. The Establishment frowns upon all that is unconventional and challenging to the established rules and present order.

I smiled. At the ridiculousness of the situation, at the absurdity of the justifications, at the firm determination not to go.

It was the kind of boyish smile that smiles itself when you know you are not stupid enough to submit yourself to such humiliation, when you know you are much better off without having to play along with their little fancy dressing-up games.