Y2K Alert Kills the Party for Legions of Workers

What’s being called the biggest party night of the new millennium is also turning out to be the biggest party pooper for legions of Ventura County folks forced to work the New Year’s Eve night shift. As champagne corks pop and fireworks blaze in the sky, they’ll have choice views of the time clock.

And it isn’t just cops, firefighters and utility workers. Call this the year of the forced office party.

Faced with the specter of Y2K calamity, some will be staring at computer screens when the big 2-0-0-0 rolls around. Others will man phone lines in preparation for a potential onslaught of customer calls. And still others will hit the party scene to drink sparkling cider, bound by an invisible “on call” tether to the office.

And this was supposed to be the biggest New Year’s Eve party in a thousand years.

“I envision empty streets,” said Mary D’Alessio, director of operations and self-deemed “Y2K Queen” at Sandpiper Networks in Thousand Oaks. “They’ll all be testing their computer systems, or supporting those of us who do.”

It’s not all drudgery. TVs will be on--tuned to CNN. Radios will play. One company has invited spouses and families for a spread of honey-glazed ham and a midnight kiss from their loved ones. Another is offering bottles of champagne--not to be consumed that night, of course--to some of its dedicated employees. And an added blessing to some: The pressure’s off to come up with the ultimate party plan.

Most companies offer a little extra pay, some extra time off somewhere down the line, a nice vintage bottle of cider at the midnight hour, and, they say, a chance to take part in history.

“I was planning to go to Hong Kong, but I had to cancel. It was sad,” said Kris Carraway-Bowman, who will be handling public affairs at Los Robles Regional Medical Center in Thousand Oaks that night. “But now we can look back when people say, ‘Well, where were you?’ and know we were there to help people.”

And where else should people welcome the new year than the place they spend most of their time, D’Alessio wonders. Nobody even notices holidays at her office, they’re so wrapped up in work, she said.

“It isn’t uncommon for us to be here until 2 or 3 in the morning. Someone is always here,” she said. “My guess is there will be a dozen people who just come in for the heck of it.”

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And enticing workers hasn’t been a problem, most companies say. There will be potlucks. But, no one is promising bands, or large rewards to their employees.

“We went after their patriotism,” said Vern Holzwarth, manager of systems and programming for the county. “We’d all rather be at a party. But, most people I know are in information systems [and will be working] anyway.”

That’s not surprising to Ronald Hagler, director of the MBA program at Cal Lutheran University. Our sense of responsibility to the office is in the American bloodstream--even at party time, he said. Americans take fewer sick days than our European counterparts. We have shorter vacations. We feel an obligation to our bosses, customers and clients, Hagler said.

“I doubt [companies will] need to use much coercion,” he said. “If they’re able to convince workers of the company’s mission and vision, people will think of their work as important.”

Important, even though most say they expect nothing resembling a cataclysm to happen. Nonetheless, when midnight strikes, eyes in offices across the county will go straight up--toward the ceiling--just to make sure the lights aren’t starting to flicker.

“I think it’s going to be very anticlimactic,” said Joe Chow, district manager for the Gas Co. in Oxnard. “I think it’s going to be boring. But I’m still looking forward to it.”

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“We’ve been working for years to make sure this is a non-event,” said Larry Denning, manager of network reliability at GTE in Thousand Oaks, where about 200 people will be working overnight. But, when nothing happens, he wants to be there to celebrate it. And his wife will be with him--or in the room next door--at a buffet for spouses and families temporarily parted from their family members fighting the good Y2K fight.

For some police officers and firefighters--all of whom will be on duty the night of Dec. 31--it all seems like much ado about nothing. What’s the big deal?

“We look at it like, ‘We do this every year,’ ” said Sgt. Tom Taylor of the Ventura Police Department. “To me, it’s just another day at work.”