Partying Is Such Sweet Sorrow

When Jeannie Willis was in law school several years ago, she worked for a medium-size firm in Bethesda, where the bosses decided that year's holiday party should be toned down. Previous parties were nice events, held at a local restaurant, where the employees were treated to lunch.

But this year, it was to be a potluck affair. As is so often the case, the assistant and secretary types took it upon themselves to try to make it nice. Everyone brought their best homemade foods, candy and cookies, and decorated the office.

Then in walks the big boss. "You know, the one with his name FIRST on the door," Jeannie says. His contribution: a Ziploc bag full of crusty cheese cubes that looked as if they'd sat out all night at another party.

Instead of perking up morale with a potluck lunch, Jeannie says, the law partner truly deflated the office.

But sometimes it's not the boss who's the problem. Meet Washington attorney Deborah Golden. She's dating Katie Feiock, another local attorney.

When Katie's boutique law firm held its annual holiday party last year, she decided to ask Deborah to come. It was the first time the relatively private Katie had brought a girlfriend to a work-related event. So Deborah was anxious to begin with. She took forever looking for the right dress. She called friends with worry. She even packed her emergency allergy medicine.

The two got to the party looking fabulous. It was a dressy affair ("Let's just say I wore a mink stole, and it didn't seem unusual," Deborah says) held at Washington International School.

Deborah helped herself to some ravioli. Unfortunately, the ravioli had apple in it. Deborah wonders the same thing you're thinking: Who puts apple in ravioli? And yes, that would be what Deborah is so deathly allergic to. She had to run to the bathroom to make herself throw up. Next, she tripped on the stairs and broke both of the three-inch heels on her shoes. Katie promised no one saw, but Deborah knew better.

After that humiliating scene, Katie quietly led Deborah to a corner table and handed her a drink. Deborah tried to lighten the moment, blurting out to her girlfriend: "All I've got going for me tonight is this great cleavage." But the comment came out of her mouth just as the music stopped and there was a lull in conversation. Everyone sitting near them heard and laughed out loud at Katie's nauseated, broken-heeled, cleavage-revealing girlfriend.

"Luckily, she wasn't fired, and she still fell in love with me," Deborah says. "I'm just not sure I'll be invited to this year's party."

Amy Joyce writes about workplace issues for The Post. She can be reached at joycea@washpost.com.