Drinking tea brings me great pleasure. Making tea for others and seeing their relief, joy, appreciation and gratitude also makes me very happy. In the first of what I imagine will become a series on such a topic, I want to explore the occasions where I just think: “you don’t deserve my tea!”
No-one wants to receive a begrudgingly made tea. Cast your mind back to the last time you brewed up for someone else with a less than enthusiastic attitude, and you will probably find that the recipient belonged to one of the three groups below:
1. The family member/s. Crucially, this is where tea is simply expected (every time you leave the sofa). You will often be asked to make tea at inconvenient times (“I’M ON THE PHONE!") and will usually be required to make more teas than the average ad break will allow. In the latter case, the cups are typically non-matching, of various shapes and sizes (meaning that only two can be transported safely at a time). Recipients will have preferred cups and will get angry should they receive ‘the wrong one’: “Oh I hate this cup, couldn’t you have given me the tall one with the chipped handle? It’s too thick on the rim, I can’t drink it”. Should you attempt to slyly make a brew just for yourself and get caught, they will cry: “Er, where’s mine? Oh that’s right, make yourself one why don’t you – don’t bother about anyone else!” If what you produce is less than average, you may be forced to remake or hear the words “I’ll make it my bloody self! – no, no – you can’t be bothered so I might as well do it”. Once settled with your own tea, a parent will tell you - “don’t put that on the carpet, it’ll leave a ring and you’ll knock it over. Use a coaster or rest it on this paper” (whilst flinging a newspaper across the room at you – which then probably falls apart mid-air, nearly knocking your tea over in the process). The whole experience is stressful and makes you dread the kettle popping. Tea drinking becomes private, like a secret pleasure (unless someone gets up off of the sofa (silently), in which case, you yell, “YES PLEASE! THE OLD MAN GREEN CUP!”)
2. Someone you live with. Tea is expected here, but if not received, will typically be met with ‘petty payback’ as oppose to an indignant outburst. Examples may include: making them a poor tea; making a point of not washing up their items; displacement of internal anger (be honest, you’re not in a mood because the kitchen’s a mess – it’s because I didn’t make you a cuppa half an hour ago). NOTE: With house-sharers, there is often too much ‘tea-choice’ in the cupboard, resulting in lengthy preparation and requirements for confirmation (“hang on, so do you want a peppermint tea or a ‘normal’ tea?”). This, in turn, leads to constant to-ing and fro-ing between cupboards and the fridge whilst you attempt to cater for their seemingly overwhelming demands. This effortful exchange is much softer than with the family member however, and any real feelings of inconvenience usually subside after drinking a cup of tea.
3. THAT person in the office who is always happy to receive tea, but rarely offers to make you a brew in return. You, seeking tea-buddies wherever you roam, will endeavour to produce the finest colouring and flavouring of tea within each cup you make them. After a few weeks, you’ll begin to notice that such efforts are not returned, and that, on the rare occasion that such a person makes YOU a cup of tea, it will always be unsatisfactory: “er...did the water even touch the teabag?” This will lead to feelings of annoyance, and typically, overtime, your own efforts will begin to diminish, resulting in a cycle of poor teas where no-one ever wins, and no-one ever enjoys the tea. In summary, a cup of tea will not taste as good when one of the ingredients is a bad attitude. The next in this series will give steps to overcome this:
How to trick people into thinking you make a really good cup of tea.
