We've dissected the public service Christmas party, Canberra style.
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A tale of two budgets
APS Christmas parties roll out an Oliver Twist-level of class division. Seriously, you really don't know what your colleagues are earning until the silly season.
When the EL1s start suggesting a banquet costing $110 a head would be a terrific option for the annual celebration, you can bet the grads and the young APS4s will have to skip their next night out at Knightsbridge - with their real yet povo mates - in exchange for a fancy feast they never wanted.
The date dance
Locking in a date and time for the Chrissy party can be like dancing the tango with clown boots on. You'll go back, you'll go forth, and you'll do it reeeeeal slow while everybody around you sobs gutturally.
When 30 public servants finally agree on a day that works for them, there will undoubtedly be someone who can't come because that day is their day off. So they'll make you clown tango around to find another date - and then not show up anyway.
Scout's honour
With a date finally secured, chances are your pick of the venues will now be whittled down to a suburban scout hall or another suburban scout hall, meaning a new catering division must be mobilised within the already barely-functioning Christmas party planning team.
The self-appointed photographer
You're three champagnes in, trying to act sober while talking to your branch head, and you can feel someone watching you. Actually, they're taking photos. With an actual camera. Tom the eternal APS6 - he's in his late 50s and always 'dresses casual' for the Christmas party (in shorts, high socks and man sandals) - has appointed himself the Christmas party photographer. He's brought in his old Canon from home and sweeps the room, capturing special moments. Except no-one asked him to. And he continues to shoot when people ask not to have their photo taken.
When you head to work on Monday and ask Tom if you can see the pics, he says his memory card mysteriously corrupted over the weekend. Of course it did.
The speeches
It's been a hard year. One of ups and downs: the standard budget cuts, the merging of two divisions, four branches and eight teams. The website overhaul. The visit from the Minister. And, of course, we farewelled Lynne, EA to the branch head and career public servant with 42 years under her belt. Bless her. She remembers when people could smoke in the office! And the tea lady would bring you a hot cuppa directly to your desk! She's useless with Excel and email but loves a good chat on the phone. And that caramel slice! We'll miss her dearly. Our morning teas will never be the same. All the best Lynne.
Jane's disappeared - and has anyone seen Rob?
It's well into the afternoon and you haven't seen your EL2 Jane for a while. Everyone shakes their head when you ask. Where could she be? Then someone gasps - Rob's been out of action for a while too. Their simultaneous absences send ripples across the Christmas party. Tom captures the reactions on his Canon. Then lo and behold - they return an hour later to separate corners of the party. With grass in their hair. And Rob has grass stains on the back of his shirt. Pretty sure they weren't working on an urgent Ministerial.
But things get even more awkward at the end of the night when Jane's husband - also named Rob - comes to help pack up the party.
'Who's coming to Civic?'
There comes a critical point. Lynne's headed home for A Current Affair, the bosses have pulled a side-doory and most of the EL1 mums are in Toyota Klugers transporting school children. It's still daylight but a handful have realised they've actually loved each other all year despite never speaking a word. ("I mean, I saw you at the printer like 500 times and always meant to say hello.") The APS4s finish up their beers and - what's this? - a couple of the EL1 mums have gone 'feck it' and texted their ineffectual husbands to sort the kids' dinners and pyjamas.
Suddenly Jarrod the grad - who struggles to book a meeting room on most days - is in charge of the 'after venue'. It's among the most important tasks he'll ever undertake. How to appease the myriad demands of such a diverse crowd? The mid-20s demand Hopscotch. The EL1 mums are divided between Shorty's and King O'Malleys. There is only one middle ground: Mooseheads.
At least the stories on Monday morning will be good - if you can remember them.
Serena Coady is a former APS contractor (and future contractor, if this job doesn't work out). Bree Element is a former communications specialist for the ATO and the Department of Human Services.