Winter is here, those absurd sleeping bag coats have resurfaced and the calls to come together over giant feasts garnished with unsolicited advice and judgment from family are days away. But before the big dance, we, the American workforce, get a dress rehearsal for Thanksgiving-we have the workplace potluck.
When you think about it, the workplace potluck is kind of a corporate "Breakfast Club." Under no other circumstances aside from professional obligation would all of these characters come together, but when given the option to either dine together over a casual two-hour lunch or continue chasing quarterly goals, we choose potluck and consequently become the best of friends.
Whether you have one of those throwdowns where management buys the turkey or the typical grassroots side dish potluck, take a minute to think of the implications behind your proposed offerings before you church up on that sign-up sheet. Here's what it says to your co-workers and your boss when you sign up for the most common potluck dishes.
Pop/beverages
Reserved for the Rookie. As it's a hefty $7 contribution, this one is best for interns and first-year sales reps still clinging to their beer pong tourney championship from last year's spring fest.
Veggie tray
Reserved for the Office BFF who clearly prides herself in remembering your weekend plans every Monday morning. About 99.9 percent of the time, the super-friendly lady in the office brings it in and will graze on it throughout the day-after finishing the half-donut she cut earlier in the morning, of course. A veggie tray is a fundamental requirement to all potlucks, otherwise it will spiral out of control and turn into a sober tailgate as the Millennial staffers clutch their red plastic cups and grimace at the taste of their Cokes minus the rum.
Buffalo wing dip
Reserved for Mr. Party, aka the Office Bro. (Yes, him, because what do you mean there aren't female wing fans at work who have ranch readily available in their desks, next to the Purell?) This dish is the claim to fame for the guy who blindly calls everyone "Buddy." He who brings buffalo chicken dip may not actually party with you, or anyone, frankly, but he sure talks a big game about "workin' hard and playin' hard." Oh, and congrats on owning a slow cooker, bro. You know it's the tricycle of kitchen appliances, right?
Meat
Reserved for the boss. Commonly, it's the office manager or high-up corporate manager investing in some protein-driven togetherness. It could be slow cooker beef or chili, but the mega-throwdown statement would be to cater in to the office. There's an outside chance that management is either cheap or strategically visiting another office and can't participate. Who's to put the food on the table, then? It's either the office Andy Dufresne, who is just too dang nice for his own good as he sits quietly at his desk as though he just gave his co-workers some beers for tarring a roof for the warden, or the fool who uses "The Wolf of Wall Street" as his Bible and is gunning for the boss' job.
Cupcakes/treats
Reserved for the Office Mom, the absolute go-to for baked goods and other warm fuzzy moments that help us realize it's going to be just fine that some of us will never use our degrees as intended. Sometimes the treats are bought, but, typically, they are the ultimate gesture of kindness to the potluck.
Mystery casserole
Reserved for the Wallflower. Every potluck needs a dish essentially untouched to the point where everyone begins to feel terrible as humans by 1:45 in the afternoon. He or she typically will dedicate a night of prep to bring in an ambiguously edible statement of their true self. Common courtesy allows for a maximum of two people to ask, "What did you make?" before the Wallflower feels publicly shamed, like they should've just brought a supplemental veggie tray. And only a complete social chump or my 5-year-old nephew audibly sniffs before asking, "What's that?!"
Mike Maxwell is a RedEye special contributor. Find him at the Cleveland Comedy Festival this weekend or at mikemaxwell.org.