At work last week, I brought in store-bought green frosted cupcakes with plastic shamrock bling rings on top for St. Patrick’s day. I didn’t want anyone to get pinched.
Last month I brought in donuts from our famous corner bakery; massive maple bars and crispy apple fritters, tender glazed buttermilk and are-you-kidding-me-coconut. It was a birthday.
There was a dainty ladies luncheon before even that, and when no one was watching I gobbled a fat grilled cheese sandwich with bacon and a side of cream of potato soup.
That one will have to be our little secret.
Because an anonymous coworker with a commendable sense of humor went and signed me up to represent an entire five departments in Gotham City, as our
Wellness Committee Member and Champion.
The person so nominated must “actively promote and encourage participation and employee ownership of wellness programs and activities”. She must “provide support and implementation at the grass roots level and secure feedback from coworkers”.
I must now be a “voice for a culture of wellness to work areas and coworkers”.
True, my skill set for actively promoting and encouraging employee participation and ownership is obvious. We pass around recipes that involve cream cheese and secure feedback after sampling goodies brought in to celebrate random Tuesdays.
“My stars,” I will tell my coworker, “You have made this cake exceptionally well!”
And then we have it with tea, pinkies up.
Now that I am a Wellness Champion, I will have to rethink where I stand on these issues.
Three thinks later, I still insist that food should be fun. If the food looks like carrots and broccoli, it had better be served inside a piñata.
Which leads us to our discussion of programs and activities.
Everyone in my section of the city works hard, and most of them are out in the field wrestling potholes or water valves or fire truck engines. They already have a weight lifting area and I could go out there and use their punching bag anytime. They don’t need a piñata.
If they only have a half-hour lunch, would they rather spend it listening to a doctor explain the hazards of cholesterol or would they rather watch SpongeBob Squarepants cartoons?
Would they prefer a chair yoga class or a box of puppies to cuddle?
We can talk about reducing stress or we can do something about it immediately by providing a dartboard with the appropriate faces on it.
What about using a game of checkers as a prop for portion control: bring your tofu or your lasagne and every time you move a checker, you get to eat a bite of lunch. Motivation to keep the game going and you will only get to eat so many bites before heading back to work.
Everyone’s a winner!
The Wellness Committee has an upcoming city-wide Walking Challenge. You dial into the six-week program with your smartphone and log your steps each day, competing against other departments and earning a prize at the end. The fame and glory would go to our guys, hands down, because we never sit down, but a much better use of our competitive edge involves a basketball hoop or a volleyball net and a little inter-departmental side-eye.
I wonder if the budget covers an outdoor laser tag unit?
Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I’d enjoy more than seeing our supervisors in the front row of a Zumba class, but according to ads on Facebook, laughter, dark chocolate, and red wine are all part of a great wellness program, and two out of three of these are office-appropriate.
Although, if we needed a splash of cabernet to finish off our lunchtime cooking class featuring Beef Bourguignonne with mushrooms, pearl onions, and a pinch of thyme, we at the Wellness Committee are honor bound to provide our support and implementation of it.
I’ll hide it in my purse.
From the ashes of the motherland, may a champion rise!