I work alone from my home office. Running your own business is great, but it can make you a bit paranoid.

Last year was tough and, as my only employee, I really carried the can.

When December came, I felt a party was needed to reward effort and boost morale.

Before

I asked for volunteers to form a committee. Naturally, I was the only one who gave a damn. After squabbling over the budget, I decided not to allow partners.

I couldn’t agree on a venue, so opted to have the party at the office. I did the invite myself, after the printer said he couldn’t be bothered with such a small run.

The name tags didn’t take long either.

The RSVPs came back straight away, with 100% acceptance. I took it as a good omen.

I ordered light beer (someone had to look out for company liability) and a variety of appetisers. Even those horrible spurty asparagus vol-au-vents that burn your mouth.

I sourced a Portaloo in case there was a queue.

Anyone who’s organised a party knows what a time-consuming and thankless task it is. My sole reward for chairing the committee was that I got to choose where I sat.

During

I’d booked a limo for the night, but was the only one to cough up his share. It cost a fortune, since some idiot got the address wrong.

I arrived late because I didn’t want to be uncool. Even so, the cook, waiter, barman and DJ were the only people present. They seemed to be having a pretty good time.

The smoke, strobes and balloons were disorienting. I put up with it, recalling that I too had been young once. I’d authorised a taxi voucher, so I figured it was safe to have a tipple.

The barman gave me a drink with a funny name. It didn’t taste like beer, wine or orange juice.

The theme was ‘Fun with Fur’. I was disappointed when I saw another koala in the bathroom. Whoever it was must have also been upset, since they stayed there all night and wouldn’t talk to me.

The DJ refused to play my request, so I went outside to join the party games. I might be the boss, but I’m not aloof.

The limbo competition was a dead loss and blind man’s bluff took forever, but I won every other event except the three legged race (there were odd numbers).

The dinner was fine, though the Christmas crackers were impossible and some prankster rearranged the name cards. I ordered chicken but got beef and no one would swap. That’s gratitude!

In my speech I thanked everyone for coming. Despite having the best sales figures, I didn’t get a bonus; I’m so tight.

I did a quick change into Santa; I don’t think anyone realised it was me. Kris Kringle was a giveaway, but at least I got what I wanted. I even won the door prize.

The dessert wafers were so small, the waiter put two of them straight on my tongue. I left the party an hour later so as not to cramp my style.

Once I was gone, I really cut loose.

I did a skit taking the piss out of the boss. No one laughed – out of respect I guess. When the DJ played ‘Time Warp’ and ‘Nutbush City Limits’, everyone danced in time.

I fired up the jukebox when the DJ left, but someone chose the same song seven times. I quite like the Nolan Sisters, but I felt for those who didn’t.

I tried a conga line but it didn’t catch on, so I grabbed the company video camera.

I couldn’t find anyone to film except the koala in the bathroom, who also happened to be filming.

When the hired help had gone, I went outside for a ciggie. No one would let me back in and I had to smash a window. The cops came; then the fire brigade.

Some fool had butted out on my tree fern.

At least there were no gate crashers.

After

Now I always front for work no matter how much I’ve drunk but I almost couldn’t face myself the next morning.  

No one offered to help clean up and the only bright moment was when a bunch of thank-you flowers came.

You put these parties on and people make a mockery of them. Next year someone else can organise the damn thing.

Come to think of it, I might even take myself off the guest list!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Megan brilliantly suggested that my wife describe her experience of my home-based business. Fonnie’s job title at The Feisty Empire is Voice of Reason – a thorny, thankless role that she performs admirably.

Now, while the Voice of Reason was happy to share her thoughts on life at Empire House, she wanted the Senior Writer to record them. Here, then, are her authorised impressions, good and bad.

Happiness

My former career in human resources was grinding me into a paste. Desperately unhappy and longing for change, I was very poor company. When Fonnie backed me to pursue a career in writing, I was transformed. Though (like everyone) I still have bad days, I’m infinitely more content.

Abnormality

When Fonnie wakes at 5.30am, I’m often already at my desk. When she comes home at 7pm, I’m still there. I sneak away during TV ad breaks to check my emails (sometimes not to return). Walking the dogs, I can talk Empire for the whole 6 km. Fonnie occasionally wishes for a husband who leaves work at work.

Freedom

When Fonnie takes leave, so can I; there’s no boss to beg. If she’s sick, I can drop everything to drive her to the doctor. If she wants a weekend away, I can take Friday or Monday off (provided I don’t have pressing deadlines). Just as she helps me, I’m able to do chores for her – like collecting dry cleaning or interstate visitors any time of the day.

Worry

When work goes quiet and revenue stops flowing, Fonnie worries. A lot. The five months from last November were particularly sepulchral, and Fonnie wasn’t convinced that teaching myself Web 2.0 was a better activity than drumming up new business.

Fortunately, Fonnie now realises that Web 2.0 was definitely the way to go. The work is flowing better, but there’s still no way we can tell if my last job was … my last.

Pride

Fonnie’s proud of what I do. She likes to read this blog and is impressed with my new website. She tells her friends when I’m in the media and stayed up all night to listen to my first graveyard shift. Her pride, wisdom and insight keep my myriad activities true.

Stress

When I get more work than I can handle, I stress. Too much work can trigger as much tension as none. Fonnie would like me to take things easier, set realistic deadlines and do each job calmly in turn. I’m getting better at this too.

Well, that’s the Empire’s Voice of Reason done. I’d now like you to summon your partner for their frank feedback on life in your business.

I can’t wait to see what they say!