Now to be honest I wasn’t really thrilled to be heading to the
wastelands of the Veneto on a Sunday morning for an event billed as family day –
especially as I needed to make empanadas for my own Chritsmas party that night.
Recently I have been teaching in a large chemical company out in the middle of
industrial Marghera and they invited me to their Christmas event – not a big
booze up but something called family day.
I was sure that for anyone with kids it would be a nice opportunity to
see where their parent works but for me who usually spends Sunday mornings in
pyjamas, sipping coffee and reading the papers it was a big ask.
I was expecting a big kid’s party – jelly, ice cream and a
lame Father Christmas. I’m happy to say
my expectations were entirely confounded.
The company had gone all out for the event (if I ever have a big party
I’m getting these guys to organise the event.) There were 1500 people there. The main presentation room had been converted
into a theatre where kids shows were performed by a troupe of actors hired for
the day. There were tours of the plant
and kids could take a ride in a fire engine.
There was popcorn, candy floss, and gifts of goldfish and orchids. Booze was plentiful but in the manner of every
Italian party I’ve been to it was drunk moderately.
When came to the food all thought of moderation went out the
window – this was one hell of a feast, there was salads and pastas aplenty,
cheeses and cured meats of every kind.
And I don’t think it a gross exaggeration to say that a heard of pigs
had given their lives for this feast.
While the Italians are quite reserved when it comes to drinking put them
in the vicinity of a buffet and all politeness goes out the window. It’s everyman for himself and you better be
tough with a good set of elbows to get yourself to the porchetta. When I did finally get to the business end of
the buffet the food was as excellent as I’ve come to expect from this country –
unfortunately I haven’t yet had enough frontline experience to take full
advantage of all the goodies available.
In fact I admitted defeat after a single sortie.
Most of my Christmas parties have been quite boozy affairs
(well most Anglo/Australian events tend to be booze heavy.) And drinking in the presence of your boss is
generally never a good idea. I have
witnessed the aftermath of morning after hangovers, unfortunate post drunken
shame and the desperate facebook search.
As I left the party I wondered if this is a better way to celebrate –
non of the people there that day would have come in to work to embarrassed to
look their work mates in the eye, no one will worry about the next performance
review and all the big revelry can be saved for your real mates.
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