Looking for the wrong type of speech from a political leader

WHERE I work, we figured we’d do well out of having to change the clocks to summertime this weekend.

Robbie, one of the guys in the office, is not good with sudden sleep deficits, so it was odds on that, having had an hour’s sleep nicked from him yesterday, he’d be slightly late this morning. We had worked out to within two minutes the point at which the phone would ring. When it came, the person who caught the call said “Oh, Robbie, hang on till I put you on speaker,” which allowed all of us to chime in with him as he said “I just thought I’d pick up some coffee – any orders?”

That’s what he always does, to assuage his guilt over minor lates: buys us all coffee. The truly exploitative among us stick him for a muffin as well, but even the beverages order gets complicated. Her in the Corner wants hot chocolate. Him in the Middle wants a vente skinny cappuccino with three extra shots. Him in the Middle is so permanently wired on caffeine, I suspect if someone switched the office coffee maker to decaf on the sly for a single day, it would take us a week and a megaphone to wake him.