In the “five-factor model” psychologists reckon that there are five main personality types and everyone possesses some degree of each. I’ve taken my buffet findings and I’ve matched them to a personality because, as was also the case in my efforts to resist coconut ice-cream for dessert every night for 14 days straight, I simply couldn’t help myself. So back to that buffet - few other places in life can bring out the best or the beast in people.
The Conscientious. Efficient, well-organised and self-sufficient, psychs reckon this type plan in advance and aim for success at all costs. At the buffet, they’ll do a little recce beforehand of what’s on offer before making a calculated dining decision. They’ll wait to ensure their eggs are cooked to perfection, work out the best queue for the freshest pancakes, and they’ll nab the last croquette simply because they got there first. They divide and conquer, collaborating with their partners for maximum efficiency. Their children’s meals are meticulously planned in the same way. They sit and eat neatly together and it’s all very civilised. They like to quiz about ingredients, preparation methods and feel it necessary to offer feedback. The chef hides when they arrive and the waitstaff smile through clenched teeth.
The Extroverts. Talkative, outgoing and comfortable in the spotlight. They’re the people who lift a lid and exclaim “Oh my god would you just look at that!” They overfill their plates with one dish because it’s so good, but then realise that there’s another dish just as good three cloches deep and another. So they make frantic trips back and forth. Their table looks like a war zone. They spill. They smash. They waste. They make banter with other guests about the dim sum. They eat too much and tell everyone about it. And they drink too much and show everyone about it. Their children have carte blanche with the menu and so dart around with plates of this and bowls of that. These people require three times the staff. The chef enjoys watching the festival of food, but disappears when the carnage calls for a mop.
The Agreeable. Known as kind, trustworthy and affectionate, this type get boned at the buffet. It’s not a place where they can bring their A game. They’ll passively wait at the end of a queue where people are cutting in left, right and centre. They’ll happily hand you the last piece of anything. Their self-sacrifice means that they end up with the crusty bit from a tray that no one wants. Their warm food and drink ends up cold and their cold food and drink ends up warm. Some dishes they won’t even know exist because they’ll have been snapped up by The Conscientious within seconds. And they appear satisfied with it all. Sitting quietly in a dining room that everyone has long since left behind, eating the food that’s long since left behind. The staff clear up the tables around them while the Chef has long since left the building.
The Open to Experience. Curious, open and experimental is how these folk roll. They’re the ones who stand watching the live grill at the buffet, ask to sample each sauce, pare a different wine with each course because they’ll have every course there is. But of course. They visit every restaurant and try to taste every dish on offer. The more exotic the better - even if it’s not something that they particularly fancy because who’s to say someone won’t ask if they’ve tried cow intestine wrapped in vine leaves with a red wine jus and juniper foam? And god forbid they didn’t…when they could. Their enthusiasm is exhausting. For the chef, the waitstaff and every other guest that's drawn into their culinary crusade. Because that what all-inclusive is to them, a crusade. To experience it all. Every. Flaming. Little. Thing. And everything else that's poached, pan fried or pureed too.
The Neurotics. Prone to high levels of anxiety and irritability, the neurotics don’t cope well at the buffet. There’s simply too much. Choice. Food. Noise. It’s far too overwhelming on every level. So they grab whatever they can as quickly as they can and hightail it back to their table – heads down, eyes averted. They can’t handle the Extroverts or the Experiencers and are more than a little terrified of the Conscientious. They don’t linger. They eat. And then bolt. The buffet is the last place they'd choose to dine. A la carte is more their comfort zone. The staff know them only by the table they occupied for five minutes and plates they leave behind.
And so which type was I at the buffet? The judgy one who sat for two weeks watching people when I should've been watching the waves or the natural beauty right in front of my face. I’m definitely a little of each and a lot of some. I'm a sixth type they don't name - it's called weirdo. I'm all and more of that one.
Before each meal, I’d conscientiously do a sweep of the menu before making small talk with a random stranger while spooning a portion of Mauritian curry I’d never tasted as I gestured to a couple to join the queue ahead of me for the fresh tuna while I secretly hoped that they weren’t pigs and wouldn’t snarf all the best bits. And then I’d head back to my table, top up my wine, take a bite of my curry, appraise my fresh tuna and then watch the blockbuster buffet show unfold. I left my kids to charm the waitstaff. I did make nice with the chef though. We're not quite Facebook friends, but I know he has teenagers, worked through a series of hotels in Europe and can't look at a platter of anything when he gets home. I also came to discover that he had no problem organising my bowl of coconut ice-cream from the kitchen when it wasn't on the menu. Definitely a
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| The view I took in... |
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| The view I could've taken in... |
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| Full feral |
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| Less feral |
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| Breakfast of champions and champion of breakfasts |
