Bad news. And it’s not even Brexit-related. Two weeks ago, the Royal College of Surgeons denounced cakes at work. They encourage overeating, tooth decay and contribute to obesity. Who’d have guessed? “I’m not saying we need to ban such treats….
We live in a nation where dunking the wrong kind of biscuit, or even dunking the right kind of biscuit but for too long, or at the wrong angle can ruin your day. In said nation, the office drinks round is an act that must be handled with utter precision, enacted with all the proper respect and grace of an ancient tea ceremony.
Here at Perkbox we are in the business of making people feel perky. That’s why we care about a proper brew. Making tea for everyone is a little thing that makes a big difference. After all, you can’t spell ‘team’ without ‘tea’. (Sorry).
So here’s a play-by-play of how to nail that tea round in five minutes: for minimum faff, maximum pleasure.
Stand up and announce to the room at large:
Right, would anyone like a cup of tea?
Naturally, everyone will remain deep at work out of politeness. Thus, you must ask each colleague individually:
Cup of tea, Sandra you fancy a cup of tea?
Tea, Julie would you like a tea yes?
Who’s over there?* Dave? Tea?
Tea here? Ray? Yes? Yes.
Sarah, tea? Right.
*(you know exactly who’s over there, it’s always Dave.)
Pick up the tea tray and sweep the mugs. Do not comment on what appears to be dried porridge at the bottom of Dave’s mug.
Classic cup configuration for a five-minute brew
Kitchen catwalk. If anyone passes you smile roguishly, like you’re up to something a little suspicious.
You forgot your own mug. Don’t go back.
You go back. You’re obliged to say something funny when you pick it up:
Forgot my own mug! What next? The finances!?
Kitchen catwalk round 2. Realise that you have indeed forgotten to do the finances.
Someone you don’t know has just finished making one measly luke-warm mug of mint tea. Say nothing.
Bring up your office’s custom tea spreadsheet on your Smartphone and lay it on the unit.
Looks like Sandra updated it this morning; she doesn’t usually ask for two and a half of soft demerara.
Just a spoonful
Oh, look, Julie’s on the agave syrup and gunpowder again and Dave’s upped his steeping time by 15%. That’s going to skew the brews no end. Spend precious moments shaking your head.
Divide the tea bags. Prepare Sarah’s single-origin loose leaf.
Pour too much water in Ray’s, too little in Sarah’s, and splosh the Smartphone. Rush to the sink and spoon out Ray’s into Sarah’s with the office’s longest-serving teaspoon. The Smartphone can wait.
Head to the rec. room during steeping and breathe. Don’t relax, though.
Steeping over. Put down Longfellow’s Greatest Poetry and prepare the bin for your patent-pending teabag flip. Miss.
Milk. You pour a perfect round and then realise Julie has soya.
With 35 seconds left you make the executive decision: Julie can forgo her recreational soya use. You saw her eat a cream puff yesterday.
Kitchen catwalk number three. Eyes ahead, soldier.
Tea spilt on hand.
Tea burning hand. Act cool.
Gasp. You forgot to make Dave’s.
Desks in sight.
Where is everyone?
Everyone’s gone to that finance meeting.
Oh, wait. Dave is here.
We have a nagging suspicion, based on the botched attempts above by a brave volunteer, that there really isn’t any such thing as a perfect five-minute round. You can give it your best shot, just know that trouble is brewing if you do. The perfect storm in a teacup!- By Hannah Sims, editor at Perkbox.
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