Whether you're a federal or territory public servant, there's a cast of characters who make the weekly branch morning tea a memorable occasion. Have we missed anyone?
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1. The ‘heads up on who’s catering’ person.
This person plays a critical role in helping you decide whether or not you’ll actually attend morning tea.
Known in some departments as "the roster shouter", this person has the morning tea spreadsheet bookmarked on their PC and, with great delight, 20 minutes before morning tea, calls out the name of the team and/or people set to deliver the culinary goods that day.
Cheers erupt when a team famous for home-made delicacies is announced (think hot sausage rolls, cupcakes actually ON a cupcake stand and delicious dips) while a collective groan ensues when a team known as a dud is announced. (Mostly the executive because they’re too busy to care and end up buying food from the nearest vending machine. Cheese and onion chips, anyone?)
2. The ‘I’m too busy for morning tea but I’ll turn up 10 minutes early and eat anyway’.
Sigh. There’s always one (or two, or four) in every branch.
They casually saunter over to the break-out area while people are still setting up and eat all the good stuff. They’re “too busy” to stay and listen to the farewell/welcome/employee of the month speech, but not too busy to have a 1.5 hour lunch break later that day.
At least you get to glare at them and yell, "Hope you left some for the real workers" as you pass them on your way to morning tea.
3. The ‘Costco mum’.
She’s a real pearler this one.
When her team’s hosting, she’s all about the giant spanakopita or the obscenely large apple pies from Costco. And people love it.
Even when it’s not her time in the spotlight, she gets in there and helps out. She wears way too much Coco Chanel perfume, shops at Taking Shape and always looks immaculate. If there’s a birthday cake to be cut and distributed, she rolls up her sleeves and gets right in there. And she knows where all the spare plates, serviettes and cups are.
She’s there to make everyone else happy. It’s just what mums do.
4. The ‘I’m nut dairy lactose intolerant and gluten free’.
Then there are those that are allergic to/intolerant of pretty much everything and become unmanageably irate when their specific dietary needs are not met be a team of people who don’t really know them or that kale gives them hives.
5. The ‘I’m going to eat while the FAS is talking’.
If one person does it, we can all do it, right? Wrong.
Even if you’ve got a plate full of muffins, Mars Bar slice and spinach and ricotta triangles, you need to park that baby and pipe down.
Except there’s always a couple of people who don’t. It’s normally always The Stayer (see personality 7). And they always decide the time to loudly eat their cheese and onion chips is right when the first assistant secretary talks about voluntary redundancies, budget cuts or something else you really want to hear about.
6. The ‘I want my EL1 role permanently’.
This person would never dare eat while the FAS is talking. They’re a young acting EL1 keen to score the role permanently when it’s gazetted and they’re going to damned well show the whole branch how committed to the department they are.
They’ll spot the FAS entering the break-out area, stuff the last of their muffin into their mouth, put down their plate and rip out a Typo "Dream big" notebook.
Despite not understanding 78 per cent of what the FAS says, they’ll take copious notes and be the first to ask a question should the opportunity arise.
7. The stayer.
Too busy for morning tea? Never! Embarrassed to be eating consistently in front of your peers for 45 to 60 minutes? Never!
They arrive a couple of minutes early, eat while the speakers are talking, push through people to get to the good food: “excuse me, if I can just squeeze through, sorry, just trying to - ah, thanks”. They always end up with a chunk of dip or a smudge of icing on their moustache, but no-one bothers to tell them.
The more they eat at morning tea the less they have to spend at lunch. They’re also usually the ones to complain that there are no sausage rolls, though they’ve never contributed anything themselves.
Note: The faux personalities contained in this article are a collection of characters from my combined experience working for the ATO, the Department of Human Services and the ACT government.
