Ten ye­ars ago, Plas­mi­on was just an idea and a small team wil­ling to bet on it. A few weeks ago, we ce­le­bra­ted ever­y­thing tha­t’s hap­pen­ed sin­ce then the only way that felt right: tog­e­ther, out­side, with our fa­mi­lies and with way more spor­ti­ve en­er­gy than a bir­th­day par­ty usual­ly calls for.

The af­ter­noon ki­cked off gent­ly. Pro­sec­co, love­ly ca­kes, a handful of thoughtful spee­ches, and a pho­to show that dug up al­most an­ci­ent me­mo­ries. It was the kind of mo­ment that makes ten ye­ars feel both very long and sur­pri­sin­gly short at the same time. So­me­whe­re bet­ween laugh­ter and nost­al­gia, this was the per­fect warm-up for what was co­ming next.

… be­cau­se a Plas­mi­on ce­le­bra­ti­on was never go­ing to stay calm for long. We split into teams for the „Plas­mia­de,“ our own ver­si­on of the Olym­pics, built en­ti­re­ly out of mini games, and a few games that had cle­ar­ly out­grown the word „mini“. Gi­ant Jen­ga tes­ted our ner­ves, a pho­to chall­enge sent teams sprin­ting across the HQ grounds hun­ting for the per­fect shot, a com­pa­ny quiz re­qui­red speed and crea­ti­vi­ty, and Foos­ball Darts, play­ed across a gi­ant-si­zed field, tur­ned into one of the day’s big­gest stars.

Af­ter each team coll­ec­ted their points th­roug­hout the mini games, the tug-of-war was the fi­nal boss. Two teams, one rope, zero mer­cy. Wha­te­ver com­pe­ti­ti­ve spi­rit had been quiet­ly buil­ding all af­ter­noon came out in full force with arms shaking, feet dug into the ground, ever­yo­ne gi­ving it ab­so­lut­e­ly ever­y­thing. It was sur­pri­sing to see what the pro­mi­se of a big bas­ket of the of­fice­’s fa­vo­ri­te sweets could bring out in even the cal­mest of us. We won’t say who came out on top, but we will say: sore mus­cles the next day were a badge of ho­nor.

Right as the tour­na­ment hit its peak, a sud­den hail­storm rol­led in over the gar­den, un­in­vi­ted and com­ple­te­ly un­bo­the­red by our sche­du­le. Ta­bles, grills, pla­tes, drinks – for a mi­nu­te it loo­ked like the who­le par­ty might just get rai­ned (or hai­led) out. But ra­ther than let it ruin the mood, the who­le team jum­ped in, grab­bing wha­te­ver they could car­ry and get­ting the fes­ti­ve din­ner in­si­de be­fo­re an­yo­ne or any­thing got pro­per­ly soa­ked.

Once ever­yo­ne was safe­ly back in­si­de, the food kept co­ming, fresh off the grill and de­li­cious for ever­yo­ne. The fun­ny com­pe­ti­ti­ve edge from the games fell off and sof­ten­ed into so­me­thing quie­ter and just as va­luable: col­le­agues, part­ners, and kids sha­ring a meal and swap­ping ten ye­ars‘ worth of sto­ries.

Thank you, Plas­mi­on team, for all the en­er­gy, laugh­ter, and com­pe­ti­ti­ve spi­rit you brought to this ce­le­bra­ti­on. It re­min­ded us that ten ye­ars of growth does­n’t just show in num­bers or mi­le­sto­nes. It shows when the sky opens up and it looks rough for a while, the who­le team works tog­e­ther and keeps the par­ty go­ing. Here’s to the peo­p­le who made the last ten ye­ars hap­pen, and to wha­te­ver the next ten have in store!