It seems that in our culture, no commemoration is complete without a meal. It’s not just for happy moments. We also eat when we lose a contest (accompanied by hard drinks), attend a wake, say goodbye to a retiree not yet in his 50s, open a new store, welcome a new partner, or any other milestone event we can think of.
Our predilection to eat for any occasion is not related to hormonal imbalance. It is a cultural bias. An unwritten rule on Filipino hospitality states that food must be served at all times. We follow a simple social rule — where two or more are gathered together for any reason, food has to be provided. The only exception seems to be when lining up for a ride. In this instance, the queue consists of strangers who are absorbed in their gadgets, and don’t feel obliged to chat — is this bus going to Katipunan?
The social convention of serving food at any gathering, whether social or corporate, attracts participants whose destination is the buffet table, or maybe unguarded handbags and cell phones.
Free meals, sometimes with promotional giveaways, attract mothers with toddlers along with an assortment of gawkers to such corporate events as the annual stockholders meetings of publicly listed companies. These are scheduled events in posh hotel settings that ever-alert gate-crashers look out for. Such corporate lurkers dressed in “drab casual” wander into the ballroom… right after the reception desk has disbanded.
Meals are served (or open for serving) after the president’s report and just before the final item on “other matters.” (Are there any other questions? There being none, let’s enjoy our carbo-loaded offerings at the buffet table.) Freeloaders don’t ask questions about EBITDA or the declining market share of the company. They head straight for a table with the flatware setting still undisturbed. And why do they always come with big back packs?
The phenomenon of uninvited guests popping up at invitation-only events like book launches misleads authors in concluding that their tome on the rise of the work ethic among indigenous people in Southern Mindanao is bound to sell out its print run of 250, judging from the crowd at the pica-pica table. (Sir, the siomai tray has run out.) That the line consists of a bedraggled lot whose attire suggests not literary hunger but enforced fasting does not dampen the optimism of the self-published author. These may be starving artists, after all, or bloggers who can give fulsome reviews of the new book. (Sir, I need a complimentary copy.)
The feeding frenzy of our culture also has supply-side aspects.
Hosts of events that involve food and catering arrangements are frustrated in their inability to nail down the exact number of guests to expect with the determined refusal of invitees to follow RSVP protocol. (I’m still shaking off this persistent ennui.) Still, who can anticipate the number of uninvited tag-along’s even with assigned tables? (Let’s add two extra chairs here with paper plates.)
An official visit to the regional office of a multinational company can lead to culture shock. A meeting is defined as a discussion without any meal. Food is considered merely a nutritional necessity. If it is served at all, it is during a working lunch where health and a low sugar and cholesterol count seem to be the only consideration — want a Cobb salad or just carrot sticks with alfalfa sprouts? The message is clear: if you need to be stuffed, do it in your own time.
Why is food such an obligatory part of office meetings lasting more than 30 minutes? Cost-cutters should view the suspension of meals at meetings as an opportunity not just for improving the bottom line but contributing to a healthier work force.
But if food is removed from meetings, it is not the attendees that will raise a howl. One only has to observe what happens to untouched leftovers to see where the pain will be felt. It is no mystery why there is so much food at meetings even if there are only a few attendees. The meal service is likely of interest to those with grocery bags on their desk drawers.
Virtual meetings, chats, and e-mail exchanges with numerous addressees have made some actual meetings unnecessary. Still, when the digital discussion stalls, and the teleconference equipment or line hits a snag, the parting salutation of the presiding officer is only too predictable — why don’t we break for lunch in the next room?
A. R. Samson is chair and CEO of Touch DDB.
