Here on the features desk I’m what Captain Wales — AKA Prince Harry — dubbed the “brew bitch”. The role befalls every office intern, including Harry, and even features in the world’s bloodiest war zones.
Yet the tea run is an important part of office life. While I may not be juggling cups across Helmand province, I am cautiously scuttling up the spiral staircase with a precariously balanced tray. My deputy editor judges interns on how they handle the tea run.
I never knew tea could be so complicated. Get it right and a hydrated, caffeinated glow sweeps across the desk. Get it wrong and you’re back photocopying. Some like builders’ tea in an eco cup with a splash of milk and the bag left in. Others like herbal teas with the bag left in just long enough to give the faint hew of cat piss, while others drink Assam (only in the afternoon) or Earl Grey, as long as it’s black. Factor in sugar or sweetener, whole, semi-skimmed, skimmed or one per cent milk and whether to use a lid, and you have a nightmare brewing.
If I’m still here in a month, you can safely assume I can make a decent cuppa. It gives you a welcome break from the desk and the satisfaction of being useful. But there is the risk of forgetting someone or worse, getting it wrong. There’s the danger of scalding, spilling or dropping. None of those are as bad as taking the office dog for a walk and having to break the news of its death on your return, but it’s still awkward. Someone has to do it. If it’s good enough for Harry, it’s good enough for me.
