What your buffet behaviour says about you

Telegraph

17-07-2025

The heels are high, the tie knots Windsor, the conversation genteel and nobody has yet started to worry about the babysitter. The wedding reception is going smoothly. But there's a beast behind the nearby sneeze guards. And, when it's set loose, the atmosphere changes.
It's the same at golf-club socials, corporate away-days and resort hotels – because when you put Britons and a buffet in the same room, human behaviour turns from pristine to primitive before you can say 'cocktail sausage'.
We're different from many European countries when it comes to communal feeding. Picture the aperitivo spread in a Milan bar: exquisitely made snacks – arancini, tramezzini, bruschetta – to place, one by one, beside your cocktail glass. This could never work in Britain: too many of us would sweep an armful of goodies into a carrier bag and leg it.
Here, it's less 'eat as much as you like' and more 'eat as much as you can before gout kicks in'. So what do our dining habits say about us? We asked Dr Sean Thomas*, an NHS behavioural psychologist, to analyse buffet behaviour.
The front-of-the-queue diner
Always first to the spread, they approach with a speed usually witnessed in children fleeing a wasps nest when the cold cuts are first sighted.
'This behaviour might relate to a sense of entitlement, a self-centredness bordering on self-importance,' says Dr Thomas. 'Some people just believe they are more important or deserving than others, which might stem from social status, age or cultural norms they've internalised. They may not even realise they're being rude – they just assume it's acceptable.'
Such guests are the Elon Musks of the dining room; imbued with a messianic sense of superiority and no small measure of avarice. They cannot function in polite society until they have secured the silkiest salmon slice, the largest muffin and the most perfect poached egg on their plate – to the chagrin of everyone queuing behind them.
The pile-it-high purveyor
Who says you can't have lasagne, chow mein, pizza, pâté en croûte and a scoop of ice cream on the same plate? Not this trougher, that's for sure.
The only thing preventing them from upending entire steam trays into their mouths are simply logistics. How can you lift an entire platter of sausages when you're already holding a plate so unstable with comestibles that a slip on the carpet could render it a culinary carnage resembling a (barely) edible version of the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan?
'What can look from the outside like greed often has its roots in experiences of scarcity,' explains Dr Thomas. 'People who take this approach may well have had times in their life why they couldn't rely on food being available, and so have learnt to make the best of any opportunity they have to eat.'
It makes for an unedifying spectacle. And a whole lot fewer roast potatoes for the rest of us.
The little-and-often eater
This can be interpreted, incorrectly, as the behaviour of a buffet arriviste. But be in no doubt, this is a long-practiced assault plan. Visiting with a clean plate each time, they sample every single item the buffet has on offer, while giving forth the impression that they are being selective and frugal. The true sophisticate butters up a member of serving staff to ensure that their vessels are removed immediately from the table, lest a pile-up of crockery give away their multi-plate manipulation.
'Novelty-seeking is well-established as a psychological trait, often associated with a drive for exploration,' explains Dr Thomas. 'People high on this trait find new experiences rewarding, and can easily become bored with repetition and routine' – sweet succour to any guests unfortunate enough to sit next to the buffet binger, since they'll soon get bored, move to sit somewhere else and leave you with a chance to pick at the crumbs of whatever hasn't yet been snaffled up by this highly skilled gourmand.
The dessert-only diner
'The evolutionary psychologist Steven Pinker has written about how desserts (cheesecake specifically) hijack our evolved preference for rich, fatty and densely calorific foods, which are rare to find in nature,' explains Dr. Thomas. 'The instinctive pull towards these kinds of foods is very strong for some people, and hard to overcome with willpower alone.'
Hence those who swarm around the pudding station, studiously ignoring anything that doesn't have cream, chocolate or ideally both ladled on top of it. How on earth do they deal with the comedown from the sugar rush, which must scupper any plan more arduous than taking Nurofen in bed the following morning?
Teeth throbbing with pain, but who cares – how often is it that you can eat 24 profiteroles in a public place without it looking like a YouTube challenge? Only at the buffet, my sweet friend.
The make-friends-with-the-server manipulator
The Gareth Southgates of the buffet crowd, able to get the right people on side with their easygoing charm, and using said charisma to divert from the fact that they're getting far more food than they deserve.
A cheeky wink, a bit of soothing patter ('Cor, can't be easy serving up the spuds in this heat, eh?') and, with any luck, the server will squeeze just a little more roast beef and the largest available Yorkshire pudding onto their plate.
'Humans are innately social animals,' says Dr Thomas. 'In evolutionary history, our capacity to get along with others was highly tied to being able to survive. Some people are very adept at leveraging social connection to get their needs met.' If you can wangle an extra spring roll from a bain-marie, then access to a more lucrative buffet of life will surely follow.
The take-away smuggler
The smuggler doesn't see the buffet as a single meal; it can support a further three or four meals if the right combination of large shoulder bag, a plentiful supply of napkins and a furtive ability to transport items from plate to holdall can be implemented over the next two hours.
'This speaks to a capacity for planning ahead and strategic thinking,' explains Dr Thomas, who points to the famous 'marshmallow' experiments conducted by psychologist Walter Mischel in the 1960s. 'Mischel suggested that some people are more adept than others at delaying gratification in order to meet longer-term goals. This is a tendency that can be seen even in childhood, and might to some extent predict success across a range of different life domains.'
The smuggler may have done well in life. But don't share a taxi home with them after the buffet; the smell of egg-mayo sandwiches emanating from their bag will really start to nauseate by sundown.
The clandestine consumer
The supreme buffet coward who deploys their partner to refill their plate while they stare at their knees, and ever-expanding waistline. 'There are strong cultural beliefs linking appetite with supposedly positive personality traits such as self-control, and with (often unrealistic) body image norms,' says Dr. Thomas. 'No wonder some people end up feeling ashamed of their own appetite.'
But sympathy must also lie with the other half of this couple who is compelled to load up two plates instead of one. One day they will get their revenge. Stacking their own plate with all their favourite items, they will retire to the lobby to eat it all before returning to their partner with a plate bearing a water biscuit, a grape and a flimsy triangle of Emmental. Words may be exchanged. But this kind of 'buffet vengeance' can leave a surprisingly wholesome aftertaste.