I used to dread Halloween in the office, fake spiders, awkward playlists, forced fun. It never quite landed. But this year, I took a different route: the Halloween menu from Le Montmartre a modest tray of moist carrot cakes, chocolate‑orange loaf slices, autumn‑toned bagels, and fresh fruit platters, delivered mid-morning. No props. No theatrics. Just good food.

I used to dread Halloween in the office, fake spiders, awkward playlists, forced fun. It never quite landed. But this year, I took a different route: the Halloween menu from Le Montmartre a modest tray of moist carrot cakes, chocolate‑orange loaf slices, autumn‑toned bagels, and fresh fruit platters, delivered mid-morning. No props. No theatrics. Just good food.

At 10:15 a.m., the tray arrived. I watched my team gather around some curious, others skeptical.

I expected a shrug; instead, I heard “This is surprisingly tasty,” “Love that orange zing,” “Nice to eat something nice together.” In under ten minutes, small talk filled the kitchen about cake texture, fruit freshness, autumn vibes. By 10:30, people drifted back to their screens… noticeably lighter.

Research supports what I saw that morning: sharing food fosters connection, boosts mood, and builds team spirit sometimes more than big events. It’s part of a broader phenomenon: shared meals in the workplace often have more influence on morale and collaboration than elaborate parties.

Later that day, our team Slack buzzed with:

“That carrot cake was amazing ”“October just got better.”

No one missed the fake spiders. No one questioned the theme. They simply enjoyed a moment together, a simple ritual of pause and taste.

I’ve learned that the real power isn’t in dressing up or decorating; it’s in creating a genuinely shared pause in the day. One tray of well-chosen treats delivered more impact than any elaborate event ever could without added planning or cleanup.

So here’s my takeaway as Office Manager: when you want a moment of human connection, don’t plan a spectacle. Just bring the cake.

I used to dread Halloween in the office, fake spiders, awkward playlists, forced fun. It never quite landed. But this year, I took a different route: the Halloween menu from Le Montmartre a modest tray of moist carrot cakes, chocolate‑orange loaf slices, autumn‑toned bagels, and fresh fruit platters, delivered mid-morning. No props. No theatrics. Just good food.