By today’s standards, office Christmas parties are like church services compared to the debauchery that took place in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Back then, these events were the highlight of the year for many employees. It was a chance to show off your dance moves, best Christmas outfits, and how crazy you really were when enough alcohol was applied. I remember more than one ass-print, including mine, being left on the output tray of the Xerox copier. And that girl from accounting? Forgetta bout it!

When I was still in high school, I used to work in the summer and part-time on school holiday breaks at Wawa corporate in the maintenance department. We had a great crew of young guys, all family members of someone who worked at the office. We also had our boss, George, who was a WW II vet who sometimes had little patience with me, “the little dago bastard”. PC was not a thing back then. George’s boss, Charlie, pretty much left us alone during the year, except when it was time for the office party or shareholders meetings. These events were serious business, and the success or failure of these parties was on his head.

Back then, the parties were held at the corporate office, Red Roof. The campus, and office staff, was way smaller then, and the party was held in the cafeteria. First things first. The tree, which was fresh cut, had to be put up and decorated. Yeah, we did that with the watchful eye of the executive secretaries like my mom. Next Charlie had to order the soda, beer and wine. My mom would order the food, which was usually Capozzoli Catering. There was always too much of everything. Usually, Tim or someone older would go and pick up the beer and wine. And when he got back. me, Mark, Earl , and Kevin would unload it making sure a few six packs and bottles of wine would be put aside. You know, for safe keeping.

On the day of the party, usually a Friday, the workday would end at 4:00 PM. Everyone would gather in the cafeteria for dinner, and there were always prizes and gifts to be handed out. And a lot of those gifts were bottles of liquor that were promptly brought back to the tables and opened. That’s when the real fun began! The maintenance and mailroom crew would gather in the mailroom with our hidden bottles of beer and make plans to attend the after-party that was usually held at the Ramada Inn on route 202.

After the “official” party was over, our crew had to clean before we left. Sometimes we would just do the minimal like putting away the food and cleaning off tables, and then return the next day to finish. After all, we needed to get to the Ramada. But, what to do with all that leftover wine and beer. George would always tell us “There better not be any beer missing or it’s your asses!” But you best believe we would divvy up the beer and wine and leave a few cases behind and put them in the refrigerator down in the basement for the next party. Some of those bottles of leftover wine ended up as gifts.
This one particular party, when my sister worked in the mailroom, we cleaned up and headed to the Ramada. The Ramada was the place to be! There was always a great DJ spinning, so the dance floor was packed. My sister and I liked to dance. We actually went to some clubs in DELCO as well where we knew the bouncers and could get in. Remember the Carnival Room in Ridley? Yeah, that was our place.

Only because half the office was there, and they were all older than me, could I get served when we rushed the bar in a group. I would get some beers for me and my sister. The night was going great. You could see some people pairing up. What stories are we gonna hear on Monday? No one was ready to leave except my mom. She told my sister it was time to go. My mom used to bring my sister to work. I didn’t live at home, had my own car, so I drove myself. I told my mom I would bring her home. “She better be home by 11:30”. “No problem mom”.

Oh shit! It’s 11:30! We need to go. I gather up my sister, who is now drinking something that is not beer, and tell her we need to leave. I only knew of one way to get home, which was to drive north on route 1 and then south on route 352. Since we were late, I decided to take route 322 thinking it may be quicker. So off we go! Now back then there were no cell phones to call home to say you’re going to be late. But I figure we’ll get there in good time since I’m taking a short cut. I’m barreling down route 322, going fast enough to make good time, but not too fast to get pulled over. Then we hit Friday night bar traffic. I try to think fast and decide to take the Highland Avenue exit off of route 322 so I can worm my way around the backstreets to get to my parent’s house. The problem was, I didn’t know the backstreets down that part of the city. And there is no GPS. So we're driving around looking for familiar streets to take.

We finally make it to my parents. It’s around 12:15 AM and my father is standing out front. I know this isn’t going to be good. “I thought your mother said have her home by 11:30”. Quick on my feet, I said “we ran into traffic, what could I do?”. My dad said, “You could have had her home by 11:30 like your mother said”. Not so quick on my feet now, I said, “well I didn’t, so what are ya gonna do about it?” And my dad ended that discussion with a quick jab to the gut that doubled me over. “Now, go home”!

That is the first, and last time I ever challenged my dad. I felt so bad, I came back the next day and apologized. You just didn’t do that. There were plenty of parties over the years I worked there, and I swear they were some of the best times I can and cannot remember.

I bet you all have a few good stories of your own! Hope you have a great time at your “Holiday” celebration this year.