el punal
Well-known member
Back in the 1970s I worked for a national wines and spirits company who had shops (off-licences to you) all over the UK. Now as the lead up to Christmas and New Year was the busiest trading time, the festive party was held in January to avoid disruption to the lucrative selling period.
For the South East region it was decided that the bun fight would take place at one of the big hotels in Brighton on a Saturday evening. To ensure that all staff were able to attend it was deemed that all the shops would close at 1.00 p.m. so that those based furthest from Brighton would be able to travel in the afternoon.
So far, so good . . . . or maybe not. As the shops had shut at 1.00 the staff in the local Brighton and Hove branches had time to kill . . . . lots of it. So copious amounts of booze were drunk by the local boys and girls to get into the festive mood so to speak. Bad move!
Eventually everyone made it to the hotel for the regional dinner, and sat at their allocated places for the meal. Soup was the first course and was served. At precisely this moment, the manager of one of the Brighton shops succumbed to the six hours of solid drinking. He passed out face first into soup. Following that there more shenanigans of pissed behaviour by the local fraternity. But probably the best example was by the most junior employee, who took it on himself to call the regional director a f****** c***, then decided to lamp him one, missed, and promptly collapsed on the floor dead to the world.
After those marvellous scenes the company decided never again to hold a Christmas party - I wonder why.
For the South East region it was decided that the bun fight would take place at one of the big hotels in Brighton on a Saturday evening. To ensure that all staff were able to attend it was deemed that all the shops would close at 1.00 p.m. so that those based furthest from Brighton would be able to travel in the afternoon.
So far, so good . . . . or maybe not. As the shops had shut at 1.00 the staff in the local Brighton and Hove branches had time to kill . . . . lots of it. So copious amounts of booze were drunk by the local boys and girls to get into the festive mood so to speak. Bad move!
Eventually everyone made it to the hotel for the regional dinner, and sat at their allocated places for the meal. Soup was the first course and was served. At precisely this moment, the manager of one of the Brighton shops succumbed to the six hours of solid drinking. He passed out face first into soup. Following that there more shenanigans of pissed behaviour by the local fraternity. But probably the best example was by the most junior employee, who took it on himself to call the regional director a f****** c***, then decided to lamp him one, missed, and promptly collapsed on the floor dead to the world.
After those marvellous scenes the company decided never again to hold a Christmas party - I wonder why.
