The inside scoop on President-elect Ronald Reagan is being broadcast over bright yellow formica table-tops in between bites of lettuce-filled pocket bread sandwiches and slurps of Dannon at Yummy Yogurt. l

Located next door to Reagan's temporary headquarters at 1726 M St., NW, the flashy lime green and yellow yogurt restaurants has become a make-do Sans Souci for the Republican transition crows.

Carefully groomed men, dressed in expensive dark blue suits and matching socks and wearing $900 Rolex watches discuss $47,000-a-year administration jobs while licking cherry-covered vanilla yogurt off plastic spoons.

"Anything new on that Haig thing?" a silver-haired, 50ish looking man, with a Reagan transition badge dangling from his hairy neck, asked before taking a huge bite from his turkey sandwich.

"We got some calls today. Ya know. Friends pushing him for the [Secretary of] State job," his lunch partner responded, pushing a styrofoam coffee cup to his lips. "What's funny (gulp) is the letters (gulp) and calls we're still getting (gulp) telling us who shouldn't get it," he said. a

"You mean [chew] HENRY THE K?" the other man proclaimed.

"Right!" the first exclaimed.

Perched atop a green stool near the salad bar, an older woman, with a volunteer tag hooked on her blazer, asked her coworker if she knew "Who's going to the W.H."

"Well, you know SHE'S going," the woman responded scornfully, lifting a make-up covered eyebrow with her voice and tipping the end of her plastic salad fork in the direction of a dish-water blond in her mid-20s wearing a tightly-fitting blue wool skirt, wel-shaped sweater and violet hose.

"I HEARD she sent a bag of mail to the WRONG ADDRESS yesterday," the other woman replied, using her plastic fork to stab a miniature tomato drowning in French salad dressing. "So what?" the other replied coldly.

A young woman carrying a steno pad in one hand, a $20 bill in the other, and clasping a Bic pen beween her teeth, pulled open the door and dashed to the end of the take-out line. "God," she sighed to a friend a few people ahead. "They're still meeting. Everything's got to be perfect when the boss gets here tomorrow."

"We get everyone -- the big shots and secretaries," explained Benny Fischer, the curly-haired manager at Yummy Yogurt whose father started the business five years ago and now has six D.C. shops. "I'm trying to get Reagan to come in for a picture," he continued. "The last big star I had in here was Al Pacino.

Fischer said his business shot up 25 percent after Reagan's team moved next door. "I used to use 30 pounds of coffee a day. Now I use 75 pounds. These Reagan people are big on the 50-cent coffee and a donut special. They really like our egg plant parmesan, too. It's only $2.45."

Fischer quickly added, "And our salads -- we got 20 kinds and 22 sandwiches -- that was 22 if you want to write it down because people think all we got in here is health food and yogurt. That's why we're changing our names to Shelly's Sandwiches -- that's spelled S H E L L Y ' S. You know how to spell sandwiches, don't yaw? Ha. Ha. Anyway . . . "

The only thing the Reaganities haven't liked about Yummy Yogut, Fischer said, is the peanut pie which his father dreamed up after Jimmy Carter was elected.

"I took that off the menu real fast," Fischer said.