Just the other night, the head of the illustrious marketing department where I consult suggested we get our rapidly expanding team together for a social outing – all in the name of good cheer.
We selected a nearby watering hole for its ambiance and prepared to settle in for some fellowship. What transpired was something else altogether …
Let’s just say it’s amazing what a little repression, combined with alcohol, will conjure up. The demons came out to dance!
As an outside consultant/free-agent/contractor, I have the benefit of a spectator seat with some really enjoyable objectivity. No one works for me, and I don’t have a boss as much as I have a client. I set the terms of my contract, negotiating both hours and pay. I’ve got no ax to grind and I sleep much more peacefully at night.
I don’t for a minute feel superior, since I have nearly two decades logged in the employee trenches of middle-management. Believe me, I know the drill. Corporate America is a soul-sucker.
During one particularly bleak period a few years ago, I began to pursue greater self-awareness through the exercise of keeping a diary of the first thoughts that entered my head upon waking each morning.
When I look back over those diary entries, I am amazed at the amount of vitriol, of sheer unchecked rage I felt over my corporate bondage. I am shocked by my own anger at a collection of people and projects I can barely recall even a few years later.
On this more recent night, as I sat sipping my martini, I looked around the table at colleagues who, by day, are nothing but civilized and professional. Fueled by booze and a little off-site latitude, these same people reflect a bubbling cauldron of the seven deadly sins.
At one end of the table sat Anger – One Grey Goose in and you could already see her furious Irish whispers with her small clique who feel particularly unappreciated and left-out. Nasty dagger-filled glances made their way down to the other end of the table and their glasses repeatedly hit the table hard.
Closer by, was Gluttony who continuously dove almost to his ankles into whatever food was on the table. No stones thrown from this glass house, since Gluttony has often been my own role of choice as I self-medicated corporate rage with a steady diet of Twizzlers and Ketel One.
Most disquieting of all was the Jeckl and Hyde transformation of our leader into Lustful letch. Almost upon the first sip – every word out of his mouth became a double-entendre, every look lingering, and there was far too much touching and rubbing to be accidental. How a calm, mild mannered Clark Kent so quickly transforms into someone who gleefully describes being the “baloney in a girl sandwich” is beyond me.
Next to me, sat Envy. Envy was sure her life would be perfect, if only she had the apartment, the boyfriend or the size 2 booty of nearly anyone else.
Most obvious and annoying was Pride. Pride “do go on” about how fabulous and brilliant he surely is, and how no one can match his intellect. It certainly is no trick to measure up to your own yard stick. Pride becomes even more annoying the longer you speak with him.
Two drinks in, and up piped Greed. Greed always seems to miraculously know what how much money everyone else makes, and he’ll be only too glad to tell you so you can share the outrage. To make up for any salary imbalance, Greed has an endless number of schemes, from padding expense reports to pocketing Post-its, to bilk the company for the compensation he is due. You have to admire his creativity.
Last comes Sloth. She’s easy to overlook. That’s her plan. She’s the one who just takes it all in. She lives to attend meetings and always does the minimum possible. She’s never unpleasant, always non-committal and easy to miss.
As I looked around the table at all this playing out, I was also struck by how business environments may differ, but the roles are nearly always the same. It’s as though at every new job the announcer might read – “In this office, the role of Envy will be played by Julie.” People move from job-to-job and are pretty well type cast.
During the day, we repress our anger along with the most interesting aspects of our personalities, since being a good corporate citizen requires we fit in. Alcohol pierces the veil and washes away our veneer of self-control. It’s much harder to hide the hate after a cocktail or two.
I am amazed though when I meet a former deadly sin colleague outside a work context and they seem so much more multi-dimensional and enjoyable. This surely is the environment effect.
As for office get-togethers, we should just be thankful for the ‘hour’ in Happy Hour.
