Every Bloody Company Dinner

In my previous working life, I happened to take part—albeit reluctantly—in several corporate Christmas dinners. External guests almost never coincided with the people who had actually delivered the best results for the company, but rather with those who were more “influential” or who sparked other kinds of interest.

The list of participants, in fact, was decided exclusively from the top, and any suggestion to broaden the circle to include people who were perhaps less visible but truly valuable to the company’s economy was regularly ignored. In short, the prevailing mindset was something like: “This is my house, and I’m in charge here!”

The dress code required elegant attire: the classic long evening dress for women and a suit and tie for men. However, not everyone feels comfortable in formal wear, and the results were quite evident, with choices and color combinations that were sometimes questionable.

_{Pixabay Image}

Seating was not assigned, but the so-called “boss” always did everything he could to sit next to the lonely lady of the moment, invited more to play the smooth talker than for any real business advantage. And yes, in case you were wondering, the man in question was married, but his wife was regularly not invited.

After all, the role was already unofficially filled by the colleague known as the “queen bee,” the one who more than anyone else attracted the boss’s favors throughout the working year. I lost count of the errands she was asked to run in his company—errands whose actual purpose, incidentally, no one ever really knew.

Obviously, the “beautiful abandoned woman,” despite dressing up to the nines, seethed quite a bit during the company dinner over the attention the boss lavished on the lady of the moment. For one evening, the queen bee became just an ordinary worker, and that was something she simply couldn’t stand.

_{Pixabay Image}

Her mood, initially cheerful and that of a “hostess,” quickly changed. One year she ended up at the center of jokes made by her “secret” boyfriend, who, like a true boor, didn’t hesitate to mock her flaws in front of the entire table. A sort of price to pay for occupying, during the rest of the year, a place on a pedestal.

Unfortunately, the poor woman was quite hurt by it, and at a certain point during the dinner she even asked me to take her home afterward. In the car, I personally witnessed the subsequent phone call the boss made to her—having slipped back into his usual role of caring lover (apparently he had just been turned down by the lady)—to ask about her escape with another driver.

Their relationship, although it was something of an open secret, officially didn’t exist, and of course she didn’t tell me she was talking to him, but from the context and the voice it was immediately clear who was hanging on the other end of the phone.

_{Pixabay Image}

The two “lovebirds” argued heatedly for a while. She held her ground for a long time, but in the end, as always, she came around, softening her tone of voice and ending the call with a dreamy… “Me too.”

Her mood suddenly changed; she started singing along to every tune coming from the car radio, even hinting at a few dance moves. Once she got out of the car, I shook my head, smiling at that ridiculous little theater.

An evening that, all by itself, as every year, had guaranteed months and months of office gossip.

I'm part of ITALYGAME Team

together with:
@girolamomarotta, @sardrt, @mikitaly, @mad-runner, @famigliacurione

👉 VOTE FOR US AS WITNESS 👈