Corporate Extravagance

Company holiday parties. If you work in the private sector, they can merit getting dressed up for the open bar, decent cocktail food, and funny memories of coworkers getting trashed and embarrassing themselves. Or, if you work for a public school, they’re mediocre luncheons that you have to pay $20 to partake in (yes, I speak from experience). Basically, they’re usually fun but nothing to really write home about—with the exception of the famously cool Yahoo! holiday functions featuring performances by of-the-moment bands. (A friend once somehow worked an invite to one of said parties and got to bop around on stage in an animal suit with The Flaming Lips, as part of their customary stage theatrics.)

However, my previous perceptions of holiday parties were completely bowled over last week. N’s company’s French office was rumored to pull out all the stops for their Christmas (read: NOT US-style politically correct “holiday”) soiree. We’d heard bits and pieces of these parties’ former greatness from both French and American employees, but nothing prepared us for what amounted to the most impressive corporate holiday affair either of us has ever attended.

We entered the nightclub located on a quai of the Seine right underneath the Pont Alexandre III (a stellar location—the most beautiful bridge in Paris). Immediately we had two choices—enter via Paradis (Heaven) or via Enfer (Hell). This was the party’s theme, after all. Partygoers roamed about with champagne flutes in hand (sometimes as many as 3), wearing halos and angel wings or sporting horns and carrying pitchforks. Apparently costumes and props were being doled out by the door. We balked at the blinding white light emanating from Heaven and went straight into the fiery depths of Hell (well, more like the faux flames that are actually red Mylar strips being blown about by a fan…but still, A for effort).

Hell was dark, decadent, and pumpin’, with a hint of S&M. Not only was the DJ set up in that room, but there were also several cages (replete with cage dancers—not hired “help,” but actual employees giving it a go-go), several people roaming around with whips ready to give anyone willing a licking, and, I kid you not, a mechanical bull. The dance floor was packed and it was cool to see people dancing salsa and swing steps with each other regardless of gender (more proof that the French are so not uptight).

On the brighter side of the party, in the Heaven wing, everything gleamed white and silver. The diversions were just a tad less kinky. First, there was an acrobatic harness that one could climb up into and dangle from the ceiling, doing their best Cirque de Soleil impressions. Second, the massage room—two massage chairs were set up with pros working their magic fingers. Third, the Garden of Eden-esque chill room decked out with an Astroturf floor and cushions, real trees, plants, and flowers…and ultimately, the token passed-out chick near the end of the night (poor girl).

Apparently one could earn massage tickets after riding the bull or getting whipped. One of N’s coworkers visiting from the US attempted the bull not once, not twice, but four times, and was thrown from the bull after a grand total of one second each time. No massage for him! The French ladies had the right call – some told me all they had to do was bat their eyelashes to procure a massage ticket, avoiding humiliation or getting tossed around on the bull to the point of regurgitating all the freely-flowing champagne.

I really like the French coworkers! People went out of their way to be friendly to me, which I attest to N’s supreme likability (as if there was any doubt). They are also no shrinking violets when it comes to the dance floor, not to mention they aren’t afraid of having a super-late school night. We left the party at 2:30am and it wasn’t necessarily still going strong, but there was still a decent crowd left (apparently it totally wound down at 3:30—not bad for a Wednesday!). Having arrived back from NYC the day before, I was jet-lagged to the point of sharp alertness, which helped me stand strong at the party but wasn’t so convenient when I had to wake up at 7:30 for work later that morning. I felt like a college student again…good times.

I don’t know what budget they were working with (they certainly didn’t need $20 contributions from the employees, unlike one of my former employers), but the company threw a fabulous fête that I can only hope they top next year.

PS-OK, I found pictures - these are not ours, but were circulated by an employee. Pretty darn good shots!