It’s the most serious business for some reason. Christmas Eve parties might be the worst idea ever. Yeah, we’ll go home from work, get ready, drive out in December with a bunch of tired, stressed out people doing the same thing to spend time with tired, stressed out people half of whom you don’t really know. Hang around, make awkward small talk, see who gets trapped into staying longer, etc. btw, see some of you tomorrow.
Every year, knowing I didn’t want to go, my grandmother who also didn’t want to go but denied it for over a decade, “so did you have a good time?” I lie and say yes, thus perpetuating the cycle well into adulthood. It eventually ended and it was a joyous occasion.