A long long time ago in 2004 before sexism was a thing, the company I worked for celebrated the birth of Christ as tradition dictated with secretaries dressed in school uniform and men from the office dancing completely naked in front of them.
In the afternoon.
In the office.
In the nude.
In schoolgirl uniforms.
In 2004.
In real life.
In full knowledge of HR.
In fact, HR was there for some of it. He left quickly and in a cloud of rumours. He wasn’t replaced in case his successor was one of these modern, pedantic “no school-girls or strippers in the office” bureaucrats.
In those days secretaries were all female, all were young, most were hot and their role was to look after the board. In those days the board were all male, all were old, most were not hot and their role included sexism. Old school sexism. Not today’s “I respectfully disagree with you madam” sexism. Proper, old fashioned “while your down there love, what she needs is, look at the tits on that”, sexism. Mansplaining wasn’t really a thing back then because women didn’t really need to know stuff….is the kind of thing men from then would be saying now if they were still sexist.
Someone on the board had the nice idea that at Christmas time and to say thank you for a year of hard work, the secretaries would have a sit down lunch in the office and in a Trading Places style role reversal, the men on the board would serve the food. That was what happened on the first Noel and that is where the idea should have stayed. But it didn’t. By year 2 some after-lunch entertainment was provided to go with the marked YOY rise in alcohol on offer. This consisted of a Partial Monty set piece performed by some of the lads in the office. Year 3 saw a further increase in booze and a completion of the Monty, admittedly at the baying request of the audience. A sharp raise in stakes from the year previous but tame compared to Year 4 which was also the final year.
The first change from year 3 to 4 was the new edict that the secretaries would all come dressed as schoolgirls. Now some of you armchair employment lawyers might call foul on this one but of course you are wrong and here’s why. It was their idea. Now some of you armchair anythings might call bollocks on that one but it was the party line and the party was in full swing. Speaking of swing, the warm-up act was three boys from the TV department doing helicopter impressions. By the time the Helicockters finished their set it was only 1pm as having covered both clockwise and anticlockwise they had reached the natural boundaries of the genre.
All of us left in the office that Thursday afternoon who were not secretaries, board members or Helicockters could not escape the cacophony from five floors up. Sounds of a cocaine fuelled hen-night, Tom Jones and stamping and clapping in triplets to “Take It Off” made conference calls and internal meetings a challenge.
After the Helicockters landed it was time for the main event. The organisers had turned pro. A vast Spaniard dressed as a fireman was shown into the meeting room and with one rip of velcro trousers had the Helicockters quietly retreating to the hangers of inadequacy. More of an interactive performer, Magic Manuel encouraged (mostly) enthusiastic audience participation through a subtle combination of baby oil and grabbing. It would appear that “Take it off” and “Beat me in the face with it” sound very similar in Spanish. A true pro, Manny focussed on those who enjoyed his act and those that longed for the more innocent times of Helicockters with equal measure. When the baby oil and performance were finally concluded, Manny was bid adios and the schoolgirls were left incorrectly assuming that the festivities were over.
Let’s just pause the story to take stock.
It’s 2pm on a normal working Thursday and a meeting room full of hammered girls in their teens and early twenties, all dressed as school girls (because they wanted to) are being entertained by some men in their 40s and at least 4 penises have been on display.
At this point my female boss returned from an external meeting having missed all of this. After I told her about the school uniforms and the cocks her immediate question was “then who’s on reception?”
So far you’d be forgiven for forgetting that this was a Christmas party. That was immediately remedied by the final performer. With the soft jingle of sleigh-bells and aroma of chestnuts things took a turn for the magical when the CEO entered the room dressed as Santa Claus. Now things were back on track. “HO HO HO” had replaced “Take It Off” and the true meaning of Christmas was about to be felt by one and all. God Bless Us..Everyone.
Santa was shown to a seat that had recently been wiped of baby oil and the schoolgirls were encouraged by the elves of the board to form a line. Slightly unusually Santa had two sacks rather than the customary one. One was labelled “Naughty” and one was labelled “Nice”.
The class of 2007 waited in line to sit on Santa’s lap and..
Hang on – I’m hearing “Objection!” from your inner, armchair employment lawyer. Again you are forgetting that it was the girls’ idea. Ok not their actual idea like the schoolgirl outfits but they wanted to, like the Spanish cock slap. Ok not all of them wanted to but some did and the others well it was Christmas and stop being all PC gone mad. Objection overruled. Continue with your next question Mr Claus.
“Have you been a good girl?”
Objection! – Overruled, the witness will answer. One more word out of you PC fun hater and you’ll be held in contempt. Your witness Mr Claus.
There were only two answers open to the girls and as luck would have it, they correspond to Santa’s two sacks.
“I’ve been a bad girl” said the president of Manuel’s fan club nearly slipping off poor Santa’s lap from the levels of baby oil and prosecco that she was covered in. This seemed to be Santa’s preferred answer which again was a brake from tradition. From sack Naughty he produced a tubular wrapped present. She unwrapped it whilst still on Santa’s lap to much excitement in the room and an occasional Ho Ho Ho from her human furniture.
A dildo! Isn’t that nice? A massive dildo. To be honest I can’t talk that intelligently about the scale of dildo but this was not small.
The line progressed and sack Naughty was dipped into time and again. It would seem there was a correlation between girls at the front of the que, Manuel appreciation and the propensity to have been a bad girl that year which in turn resulted in a *thrust of dildos being distributed.
*I’m unaware of the collective noun for dildos so took the liberty of inventing one.
Our first good girl arranged herself on the very edge of Santa’s knee. Again for you data-lovers out there – there was also a correlation between being towards the back of the que, not wanting Manuel’s cock in their face and having been a good girl that year.
What was in sack Nice I hear you cry.
More dildos!
Objection!
OVERULED- If you’ve got a problem, take it up with HR. Oh wait you can’t.
The next year we had a new CEO (female) who appointed a new Head of HR (modern, pedantic “no school-girls or strippers in the office” bureaucrat) and oddly enough they objected to this particular festive tradition and put a stop to it.
Objection Sustained.
Diaries Of Media 