At some publishing office Xmas bashes, they serve chili from crockpots in the conference room. At others, they serve caviar at the Four Seasons. But no matter how posh or pedestrian the surroundings, there's one constant in this geekiest of industries: everyone becomes a fucking teenager once they get a little booze in them. The question, though, is what kind of high school style role will everyone fall into?
- The cool ("cool") kids: Either the younger editors or the art department, depending on the publishing house/imprint. They leave early to go somewhere better and talk shit about the total plebes that comprise the rest of the company.
- The wannabes: The boringest departments always get the drunkiest. This is their chance to shine! Alvin from contracts seems so mild-mannered all the other 364 days of the year, but come party time, he's suddenly breaking it down like Little Superstar. And why is Sara from preproduction doing the chicken noodle soup dance?
- The cool teacher: Every house has one — that one older person (usually a dude) who is cool enough to hang with the younger kids. To his peers, there is something mildly creepy about him. He will hit on an intern tonight. Guarantee it.
- The chess club: The boring older editors, who like to bring their significant others to the party. This is a great time to get an inside peek into some inscrutable home lives. Expect some stilted, uncomfortable conversations. Even with the booze, most these spouses are so socially awkward, it's reasonable to assume they may have crawled out from some abandoned subway tunnel like mole people.
- The once a year hos: They are the ones sticking their boobs out at every available (and maybe not-exactly-available) straight guy. Yup, all two of them.
- The cheerleaders: Publicists are just cheerleaders, all grown up. It's hard to hate them when they're telling you how AWESOME!!!! you are and how much they LOOOOOVE YOU GUYS!! while downing their fifth pink margarita and swaying drunkenly to the music.
- Earlier: What Color is Your Xanax? More Flavors Of Author Crazy