"How I ended up kissing the waitress at my work Christmas party. And other festive horror stories."

There is nothing more liberating than the final hours of an office Christmas party.

The heels are off, the photobooth novelty items are on and you start telling your work mates the real reason behind your break-up.

I was 19-years-old when I attended my first work party and I learned very quickly they lasted about four hours before descending into total mayhem.

Everyone seems to have that one “office Christmas party” story where they downed six glasses of champers on two chicken skewers and hooked up with John from Activations.

I can’t say I’ve ever felt the urge to pash someone I’d later see in the office kitchen, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t cut loose. Real loose. Catering staff loose.

via GIPHY

ENTER: THE FRESH SPRING ROLL GIRL.

When you are a university student working in retail, the office party is likely to be nothing more than a piss-up filled with men who look like your dad’s friends.

You have a couple of choices: you can tell John, Jimmy and Joanna about your aspirations beyond “hello, how are you,” or you can go straight to the bar.

I went to the bar.

After each gin, I would pass a girl offering fresh spring rolls, she would ask if I’d like one and I’d decline.

By the fourth offer, I started to wonder if she was taking the piss.

“Spring roll?” She asked.

“What do you think?” I replied. Smooth operator.

“Yes.”

Not sure what to get your loved ones this Christmas that isn’t a deep-fried delight? Have a listen to our top picks. Post continues after audio.

I leveled her gaze and this kind of unspoken, “this party sucks, our jobs suck, you don’t suck,” moment passed between us. I found myself pressed against her ten minutes later.

We were in a bedroom attached to the house that hosted our function and it was all going rather well until we heard somebody laughing down the hall.

I looked at her, she looked at me and we dove under the raised bed. The door opened and a pair of black shoes appeared. We watched as they walked past our own carefully hidden feet and into the adjoining ensuite.

We then listened as the presumably male party guest emptied what must have been a litre of mimosa into the plumbing.

When our mystery man left, we crawled out and said a very quick goodbye.

I rejoined the retail staff on the dance floor and she returned to her post by the bar. I didn’t return for another gin.

So, if you ever kiss someone at the office Christmas party, don’t feel bad about it. Just make sure you grab a spring roll afterwards.