The Great Work Christmas Party Debate: A History of Corporate Dysfunction
There’s something uniquely uncomfortable about work Christmas parties, isn’t there? That awkward blend of forced socialisation, free alcohol, and the desperate hope that Dave from Accounts doesn’t do something spectacularly stupid this year. It’s that time again when we all have to decide whether to attend the annual corporate festivity or come up with increasingly creative excuses about why we can’t make it.
I’ve been scrolling through some discussions online about the worst work Christmas parties people have experienced, and honestly, it’s been both horrifying and oddly comforting to know that everyone’s workplace has its share of dysfunction. The stories range from the merely disappointing to the genuinely traumatic, and they paint a fascinating picture of how corporate culture has evolved—or hasn’t—over the past few decades.
One person shared two contrasting experiences from the banking sector that really stuck with me. The first was from around 2010, during what they called “the good old days” of banking. Unlimited drinks, Friday parties funded by the company, and apparently a workplace culture that was basically encouraging functional alcoholism. Sounds fun, right? Except that particular party ended with a bloke dressed as Rambo assaulting multiple female colleagues in the bathroom. The head of HR was propositioned. People needed counselling. The open bar days ended. What strikes me most about this isn’t just the horrific behaviour—though that’s obviously the main issue—but how it took something this extreme to change the culture. How many smaller incidents were brushed aside before this?
Fast forward to post-pandemic banking, and the same person describes being “forced to make themselves available” for a rooftop party at a prestigious building, only to find Jatz crackers, a cheese plate someone bought themselves, and Yellowglen in plastic flutes. They had to play board games. The company was only funding the booze. The contrast is almost comedic if it wasn’t so depressing. We’ve gone from one dysfunctional extreme to another—from toxic excess to corporate penny-pinching dressed up as team building.
The stories that really got to me were the ones about people showing up in blackface. Multiple people mentioned this had happened at their workplaces within the last decade. Multiple times. One person had to qualify “which one?” when asked about it. How is this still happening? It speaks to a deeper issue about workplace culture and who gets hired into positions of comfort and privilege where they think this behaviour is acceptable. These aren’t just “bad apples”—they’re symptoms of organisations that haven’t done the hard work of actually creating inclusive environments.
Then there are the corporate excess stories that feel like they’re from a different planet. Someone described a major consulting firm party with go-go dancers suspended from the ceiling and the CEO being carried in on a human chariot. Someone was knocking food on the floor just to watch staff clean it up. The IT head was searching bathroom stalls for his cocaine. These are the same companies that’ll talk about “values” and “corporate responsibility” in their annual reports while their leadership behaves like Roman emperors.
The oil and gas industry story particularly struck a chord with my left-leaning sensibilities. Unlimited food and drink at Crown, Apple devices as door prizes, bartenders in Playboy bunny costumes being groped by senior executives—all while 385 people had just been fired from the Australian offices. The company was doing well in meeting targets, but there were “upstream issues.” Nothing says “we’re all in this together” quite like firing hundreds of people then throwing a party that costs more than some of those people’s annual salaries.
What frustrates me about all of this is the fundamental dishonesty of the whole exercise. Companies want the appearance of caring about their employees, of fostering “culture” and “team spirit,” but they won’t address the actual problems. They won’t deal with the harassment until it becomes impossible to ignore. They won’t question why someone thinks blackface is appropriate. They won’t see the disconnect between lavish executive perks and mass redundancies.
The IT sector isn’t immune to this either, despite our industry’s tendency to think we’re more progressive. I’ve been to my share of awkward work functions over nearly two decades in tech. There’s the startup that blew their entire budget on craft beer and food trucks then had to do layoffs two months later. The corporate merger party where nobody from either company wanted to talk to each other. The “virtual escape room” during COVID that was exactly as grim as it sounds—though I’ll admit that at least had the advantage of being able to close your laptop lid and escape.
What really gets me is how the good parties aren’t actually about expense or extravagance. The best work function I ever attended was a simple afternoon barbecue at a park. Someone brought their dog. People brought their kids. The company provided drinks and food, but it wasn’t excessive. The CEO wasn’t making speeches. Nobody felt pressured to stay or leave. It was just… nice. Comfortable. Human.
But those kinds of parties require something that many companies don’t have: genuine respect for employees as people rather than resources. They require leadership that doesn’t need to perform power. They require a culture where people actually like each other because they’ve been treated well year-round, not just at the Christmas party.
The work Christmas party is a mirror held up to corporate culture. It reveals what companies really value, how they really view their staff, and what behaviour they’re willing to tolerate. When someone gets away with blackface, or sexual harassment, or treating waitstaff like dirt, it’s not an aberration—it’s a reflection of what’s acceptable the other 364 days of the year.
So what do we do about it? We can’t individually fix corporate culture, but we can make choices. We can speak up when we see inappropriate behaviour. We can question the logic of expensive parties when colleagues are being made redundant. We can advocate for the simple, human approach rather than the extravagant performance. And yes, sometimes we can just decide not to go, and not feel guilty about it.
I’m still deciding whether to attend this year’s function. The FOMO and potential backlash for not “appreciating the company funded show” is real. But maybe that pressure itself is part of the problem. Maybe we need to normalise saying “I’d rather not” without it being seen as career suicide. Maybe companies need to accept that forced fun isn’t actually fun, and mandatory social events aren’t actually social.
Either way, if you do go to your work Christmas party this year, maybe be the person who notices when something isn’t right. Be the one who speaks up. Be the one who suggests the simple barbecue instead of the extravagant performance. And if nothing else, at least you’ll have a story for next year’s online discussion about terrible work Christmas parties.
Stay safe out there, and remember: the mute button on Zoom calls during virtual Christmas parties is your friend.