The tea dance

There’s a plate of biscuits, many of which are chocolatey in nature, a little distance from my desk; they are leftovers from a meeting and are now for general office consumption. Being a sweet-toothed face-stuffing git, I naturally want to scoff a load of them. But unfortunately I also have some remaining semblance of a conscience, so I can’t really justify to myself simply going up and grabbing a fistful, nor even going to get just one (repeatedly) without some sort of socially acceptable pretext.

I now find myself getting up for cups of tea at a remarkable rate, and as I pass the biscuit plate, which I concede involves taking something of a diversion, I modestly pick one up. In fact, I even offer to get other people teas as I go (although my failing memory means that I neglect to offer biscuit-fetching), so basically I’m being altruistic as I gorge myself.

Shortly, phase 2 of my plan will kick in, as the substantial quantity of tea I’ve already had works its magic and gives me another perfectly legitimate reason to get up.

As they say, a happy worker is a productive worker.