The Empathy Project

A Short Story

Monday

Sam slept on his neck wrong last night and couldn’t turn his head fully to the right. He sat at his workstation and flipped on the decade-old desktop PC. Even though the monitor’s brightness was turned up as high as it would go, it only illuminated the screen to a third of the brightness it should have been. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed. One of the bulbs had been out for six weeks, even though he’d put in two separate work orders. 

Sam’s cubicle, a beige fabric-covered, three-sided prison, had been adorned with a spider plant he’d purchased for himself in a desperate episode of loneliness, which was now wilted and brown. A company birthday card that nobody had bothered to sign was pinned to the wall above his plastic inbox. The card featured four basset hound puppies in birthday hats. The inside read: Let’s Pawty and was stamped with the CEO’s signature. He’d never even met the CEO.

Sam worked at Betasoft, a mid-rate software company, although he was not qualified to write software. His job was to create CAPTCHA puzzles for websites to distinguish between humans and bots. Sometimes it would be a random word that he’d manipulate with rudimentary software so that computers could not recognize each letter as a separate character. Other times, he’d select pictures and place them on a grid. Then he’d create an instruction for the user to click on the boxes that contained clouds, for example, or traffic lights. 

Sam heard someone fart from another cubicle and decided he didn’t want to stick around for the smell, so he got up and took his coffee mug to the break room. Todd, a co-worker who seemed to wear the same khaki pants several days in a row, stood at the counter stirring powdered creamer into his coffee. 

“Morning, Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster on a Monday morning.

“You catch the Cowboys game last night?”

Sam didn’t watch football. “No. I missed it.” After an awkward silence, he asked, “Did they win?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Sam poured himself a cup of coffee. When he tore open a pouch of artificial sweetener, its contents spilled out onto the counter. “Damn,” he said, barely audible even to himself.

“Mondays, am I right?” Todd said and walked out.

As Sam cleaned up his mess with a damp paper towel, his boss entered the break room.

“Oh, hi Mr. Peters.”

“Good morning, Sam.”

“Did you happen to get that work order I put in last week?” Sam asked.

Mr. Peters’ brow pinched toward the middle of his forehead. 

“The one about the light above my cubicle?” Sam clarified.

“Mmmm. Oh yes, of course. We’ll get right on that.”

“Okay.” Sam hesitated while Mr. Peters dug around in the refrigerator. “It’s just that I’ve put in two work orders in the last month and the light’s still out.”

“Sam,” Mr. Peters said, leaning his elbow on the open refrigerator door. “I graduated from Richland Community College with an Associates Degree in Business Management. Do I look like I’m experienced in building maintenance? Do I have a ladder in my office? Or a toolbox? No, I do not, Sam. My job is to take your work order and send it to the maintenance department, who does have those things. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Sam. Now get back to work. Those CAPTCHAs aren’t going to write themselves.”

When Sam returned to his cubicle, he noticed a new email notification with the subject line: Important Office Memo. He opened the email, which read: Mandatory company meeting at 11:00 in Conference Room B. Bring your best attitude! He looked at his watch: 10:46. He stood and peered over the top of his cubicle to his portly neighbor, Chris, who wore over-ear headphones and seemed to be engrossed in some kind of video game. “Hey, did you get that email about a meeting?”

“Yeah, everyone did, you loser,” Chris said without looking up from his screen.

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“How the hell should I know? Leave me alone. I’m trying to beat this level before that meeting.”

“Sorry,” Sam said with mild sarcasm. Let’s hope Chris brings his best attitude, he thought to himself. He stood up again to see if there was anyone else he might ask. He took a sip of his coffee and spotted Todd at the copier to his left. Because he couldn’t turn his head to the right from the crick in his neck, he didn’t see Belinda walking down the hallway as he stepped out of his cubicle, and she plowed into him, spilling coffee all over his white button-up.

“Watch where you’re going,” Belinda snapped and kept walking.

Sam stood there, stunned, with coffee dripping from his shirt and his now half-empty mug.

“Loser,” came Chris’ voice from the next cubicle.

Sam entered the conference room dabbing the front of his shirt with paper towels when he heard snickering from a group of co-workers already seated at the table. Individually wrapped snack-sized candy bars were scattered along the table—Snickers, Milky Way, Butterfingers, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Chris scooped three or four toward him and began unwrapping them one at a time. Sam didn’t recognize the woman standing at the head of the conference room table.

“Alright everyone, let’s all find our seats. Help yourselves to some chocolate there.” She didn’t look a day over thirty, dressed in a bright green blouse and white pencil skirt. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and gold tassel earrings. Her energetic smile gave the distinct impression that she must not have been here long. Give it some time, and she’d be just as gloomy as everyone else.

“My name is Cindy Perlmutter and I’m an organizational consultant. I haven’t had a chance to meet all of you, but I intend to do just that while I’m here this week.” 

Her cheerfulness drew a stark contrast to the rest of the vibe in the office. It might have bordered on obnoxious, but Sam welcomed the change—anything to break the monotony. 

“I am very excited to announce a new program that I believe will be a much-needed morale boost here at Betasoft,” she said. 

Mr. Peters stood at one end of the room and shook his head. Everyone at the table appeared lifeless and despondent.

“It’s called,” she continued, “The Empathy Project!” 

Employees looked at each other with furrowed brows. Chris snickered out loud. 

“Belinda,” Cindy said, “Could you begin passing out the tokens?” 

Belinda nodded dutifully and placed three gold-colored doubloons, each with the letter E stamped on it, in front of each employee. 

“These are Empathy Tokens,” Cindy continued. “Everyone will start with three each but you can earn more depending on how much you participate. Can anyone tell me what empathy means?”

Sam knew but didn’t want to be judged by his peers for being a kiss-ass. A plain-faced woman nearest Cindy cautiously raised her hand no higher than her shoulder. 

“Yes, Penny,” Cindy said. 

Sam had never officially met Penny either. He’d seen her around the copier and in the break room occasionally, but they’d never spoken to one another.

“It’s like when you feel what others feel?” Penny asked sheepishly.

“Yes, that’s right,” Cindy said. “One way to boost morale is to learn how to walk in someone else’s shoes—to extend compassion to your fellow co-workers. Not only is it kind, it feels good, too!” 

Groans filled the room. Chris made a gun out of his thumb and forefinger and pretended to shoot himself in the head.

“I know, I know. It might sound a little cheesy,” Cindy said, “but I’d like to give it a go, just for a week. And on Friday, whether it makes any difference or not, we’ll have a pizza party. How does that sound?” 

The employees nodded and shrugged at one another. They’d never had a pizza party at the office before. 

“Great! Here’s how it works. You can earn a token whenever you go out of your way to do something kind for someone else around the office. For example, let’s say Penny here were to compliment my hair. That would make me feel good, so I’d give her a token. If I want to earn a token, I’ll . . .” She looked around the room. “I’ll ask Mr. Peters if he needs a refill on his coffee. Then, he’d give me a token. You get the idea?”

“But what if he doesn’t want any more coffee?” Chris asked.

“Well, I suppose it’s the thought that counts. It would be up to Mr. Peters if he appreciated the gesture. Let’s do a few practice rounds. Go ahead. Don’t be shy.” 

Todd stood up and turned toward Donna to his right. “Your perfume smells really nice . . . like a department store.” 

Donna raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Cindy interceded. “Now Donna, if you felt that was a genuine compliment and it made you feel nice, then you’d give Todd a token.”

Donna reluctantly slid one of her tokens over to Todd, who picked it up cheerfully and showed it to everyone before sitting again.

“Very good,” Cindy said. “Would anyone else like to try?”

Gary, who sat across from Sam, stood. He grabbed one of the chocolates from the center of the table. “Sam, would you like a chocolate?”

Sam, who could have easily reached for his own piece of candy, responded, “No. Thanks though. I’m good.” 

Gary looked confused and turned toward Cindy for further direction.

“Okay, Sam, even if you don’t want the candy, you could choose to give Gary a token just because he was kind enough to ask. It’s up to you.”

With everyone now looking in Sam’s direction, he felt obligated to play along. Plus, he didn’t want to put Cindy in an awkward position. He slid one of his tokens across the table.

“Wonderful!” Cindy said. “Does anyone else have any questions? No? Well, let’s see how it goes. Oh, just one more thing. At the end of the week, the person with the most empathy tokens wins this . . .” She pulled a  white rectangular box from her briefcase. “Apple Watch!” 

Now she had everyone’s attention and they nodded in accord with each other. Sam could sense the mood in the room shifting. 

“And the runner-up will receive this $50 gift card to Outback Steakhouse!” 

Chris rubbed his hands together with glee. 

“So that concludes the meeting. Thank you for your participation. I’ll see you on Friday!”

As everyone filed out of the conference room and back to their workstations, Sam felt a tap on his right shoulder. Unable to turn his head to the right, Sam was forced to turn his whole body completely around. It was Penny, the one who had answered the question about empathy, standing behind him. At first, he looked over her shoulder to see if it might have been someone else trying to get his attention but everyone had already dispersed.

She wore the kind of glasses his grandmother had worn in that wedding portrait they took before it was fashionable to smile in photographs. Her dark brown hair was parted and pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her features were unobtrusive and her make-up understated—if she was wearing any at all. Penny couldn’t have been more ordinary.

“Hi. I’m Penny.” She held out her small hand and attempted a smile that never fully formed.

“Sam,” he said as he shook it.

“I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch.”

“I brought my lunch.”

“Me, too.” Penny looked down at her shoes for a moment and then snapped her head back up. “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me.”

“Oh! I get it. The empathy thing. Here.” He pulled the second of his original three empathy tokens from his pocket and handed it to her. “It was kind of you to ask.” 

“Well?” Penny asked.

“What?” What was the question?

“Would you? Like to have lunch with me?”

“Oh. You really meant that. Umm, sure.” Nobody at Betasoft had ever asked him to lunch. Most people just ate at their desks or in their cars. He looked at his watch. “Should I just meet you in the break room at noon?”

She nodded. “Yes, that would be fine. See you then.” She lowered her head slightly and walked around him to her workstation.

Sam lingered in the hallway for a moment before returning to his desk. He tried to think of a way to earn back his token from Penny. Maybe he could compliment her outfit. No, he couldn’t recall anything noteworthy about anything she was wearing. When he tried to remember, he could only recall those huge glasses. He knew it didn’t matter as far as the token project went, but he felt a kind gesture should have some genuineness behind it. He waited at his desk until the clock on his computer turned to 12:00 p.m. He grabbed his lunch and made his way to the break room.

When he got there, Penny was already seated at a round table with a plastic bento box perfectly centered before her. She raised her eyes to meet his as he entered the room. Sam took a seat across from her and looked over at her lunch. 

“What is that? Tuna salad?” Sam asked.

“Chicken salad,” she replied as she unsnapped the lid from her bento box.

Sam reached into his lunch sack and extracted a foil-wrapped turkey sandwich, a snack-sized bag of cheese crackers, and an apple. “Turkey sandwich,” he said as he began to unwrap it. 

Penny simply nodded and began to take small bites of her chicken salad. 

Sam looked up at the clock on the wall—12:04. He wasn’t sure what to make of this act of kindness on her part. While he did feel it was kind of her to ask, he wasn’t sure the actual having of lunch was benefitting him all that much. Usually, he’d eat at his desk and read news articles online and he wondered what news he might be missing. It occurred to him that perhaps this woman had a romantic interest in him and had used this opportunity to break the ice. If that were the case, Sam could appreciate the boldness it must have taken for this seemingly shy and socially guarded individual. Good for her, he thought. But there was no initial attraction on his part.

Of course, Penny hadn’t said or behaved in any way that might indicate romantic interest. It seemed as though she may have been content to eat in silence for the rest of the hour. Sam, however, was not. 

“Would you like some cheese crackers? Or an apple?”

“No, thank you.” She attempted a smile but, once again, it didn’t quite form. 

Sam waited for her to offer him a token. Surely, offering someone food would qualify as an act of kindness. Penny selected a single grape from one of the sections of her bento box and bit into it. She didn’t put the whole grape into her mouth like people with adult-sized mouths do. Instead, she bit it in half and chewed it slowly and deliberately.

Sam stood and walked to the vending machine. “Can I get you a drink? Soda? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I have water.”

Sam made his selection and walked back to the table, where he cracked open a can of sweetened lemon-flavored iced tea. Now he had offered her food and drink, with no renumeration in the form of an empathy token. Then again, the project was still new. Maybe she forgot. 

“So, what do you think of this whole empathy project?” Sam asked.

“It’s not empathy,” she said plainly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, empathy has to do with real emotional connection. If you do it for some token, it’s not really empathy. It’s contrived.”

“Sure. I can see that,” Sam said. “So, is this . . . this lunch . . . is this real or is it fake?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I gave you a token for it.”

“I didn’t ask you for a token.”

“Then why did you ask me to lunch?”

“Because I thought you might be good company.” She said this plainly, without emotion, and took another bite.

Despite his dubiousness regarding her motives, Sam continued to converse with Penny about a number of subjects. He learned she had been at Betasoft for two years in accounting and was working toward her CPA licensure. He explained how he had stumbled upon this job three years ago from an online listing after four months of unemployment, and how it had always been meant as a placeholder until he could find a better job—but he got complacent and stopped looking after a few weeks. 

He learned that Penny owned a cat named Rollo who was currently suffering from a respiratory illness. He learned that Penny grew up in Michigan where both her parents still lived and ran a booth at the local farmer’s market selling potted succulents. Before he realized it, the lunch hour was over. 

“Well, thanks for the invitation. It was nice talking with you,” he said.

“I enjoyed it, too.”

Sam stood to throw away his trash and turned around. “Do you want to . . . maybe do this tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.” This time, she really did smile.

Tuesday

The next morning Sam witnessed his co-workers behaving oddly. His office mates were overly polite to the extent that bows and curtsies were enacted to an excessive and theatrical degree. Some had opted to apply poorly executed English accents, using terms like “ma lady” and “kind sir” when addressing one another. Todd offered to pull out Belinda’s office chair for her. Belinda sat and graciously bestowed upon him an empathy token. When Todd got back to his cubicle, Teresa was waiting there and offered to throw out his wastebasket, which wasn’t even full, not to mention everyone’s waste baskets were emptied after hours by the cleaning crew anyway. He bowed and proffered her a token.

Chris was going from cubicle to cubicle with a bottle of glass cleaner and a rag asking each person if they had any tokens left. If they did, he would offer to clean their computer monitors and keyboards. If they didn’t have any tokens, he would simply move on to the next cubicle. When he got to Sam’s desk he asked, “Got any tokens left, loser?”

“Just one.”

“Can I clean your monitor for a token?”

“Just take it,” Sam said and tossed him his last token.

“You’re such a loser,” Chris said, shoving the token in his pocket and bringing his thumb and forefinger to his forehead. 

Sam didn’t know what he had ever done to get on Chris’ bad side.

Empathy tokens were being exchanged just as Cindy Perlmutter had instructed. Sam was skeptical that this empathy project would have any meaningful or lasting impact on the office culture, but it did seem to offer a break from the usual monotony.

At noon, when Sam entered the break room, Penny was there with her unopened bento box before her. Her eyes flashed when he walked in and she ventured a brief wave as if uncertain it was the correct gesture.

“Hi,” Sam said, sitting across from her. “How’s your cat doing?”

“Still sneezing a lot,” she replied. “He has five more days of antibiotics. Thank you for asking.”

“I read up on it last night. Have you tried taking him into a steamy bathroom for twenty minutes three times a day?”

“No, but at this point, I’ll try anything.”

Belinda, salting a hard-boiled egg at the counter, overheard their conversation and butted in. “You ought to give him a token for giving you such helpful advice.”

Tobias interjected, “No, that’s not necessary. We’re . . . friends.” He met Penny’s gaze to make sure his sentiment was reciprocated. She looked at Belinda and nodded.

Belinda shoved the rest of her hard-boiled egg into her mouth and shrugged before walking out of the break room. Penny and Sam shared a chuckle at the absurdity of exchanging tokens for a simple act of kindness. 

“Anyway . . .” Sam said. “I hope Rollo gets better. Poor guy.”

“Thanks. I’ll definitely try the shower thing.”

Todd walked into the break room to use the microwave. “Hey Sam,” he said putting his Tupperware dish into the microwave. “How many tokens are you up to?”

“None. I’m out.” Sam showed his open palms like a blackjack dealer.

“Well, I could give you one. How about you buy me a Coke?”

Sam glanced at Penny and then back at Todd. “You know what? I’ll buy you a Coke, but I don’t need a token.”

“What? Don’t you want to win the contest?”

“Not especially. I don’t think we need to be incentivized to treat each other well,” Sam said as he made his way to the vending machine. “Regular? Diet?”

“Regular,” Todd said, somewhat stunned.

Sam made the selection and tossed the can to Todd, who caught it with one hand and regarded it with bewilderment as if he wasn’t sure what to do with a free can of Coke. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam said, taking his seat once again and biting into his turkey sandwich.

The microwave beeped and Todd removed the steaming dish. On his way out, he asked, “Can I buy you a Coke tomorrow?”

“No need,” Sam said. “This isn’t a trade, Todd. Enjoy your lunch.”

Wednesday

The next day Sam found himself looking forward to lunch with Penny. After she had gotten over her initial shyness, Penny was genuinely an interesting person. Granted, she wasn’t abundantly expressive in her mannerisms or speech. Her thoughts and ideas were refreshingly straightforward and concise. She said only what was pertinent and refrained from embellishing with hyperbole or sarcasm. Since Sam wasn’t particularly attracted to Penny physically, he wasn’t inhibited by anxiety and didn’t feel any pressure to impress her. 

Sam tried to keep himself busy so the time would go by faster, he was distracted by two women bickering in the next row of cubicles.

“That’s not fair. Yesterday I gave you a token when you complimented my haircut. But when I compliment your hair, suddenly that’s not worth a token?”

“My hair always looks good. Yours doesn’t. That’s why my compliment was worth a token and yours is just an accurate observation.”

Later that morning, from an adjacent office, he overheard another conflict.

“I’ve already told you. I can’t eat gluten! Please take away these donuts!”

“Fine, but it was still nice of me to buy them for you.”

“No, it wasn’t. It would have been nice if you remembered I was allergic to gluten.”

Sam tried to concentrate on his computer screen. It seemed dimmer than it had yesterday and he attempted to adjust the brightness, only to find that it was already turned up all the way. He hit the side of the monitor with his palm.

“That’s not good for the monitor.” It was the maintenance man, Bill, dressed in blue coveralls. He was holding a ladder in one hand and a florescent tube in the other. 

“Oh, you got my work order!” Sam said.

“What work order? I just saw this light was out and figured you’d appreciate it if I fixed it for ya.” 

“I would appreciate it very much. Thank you,” Sam said.

Bill cleared his throat and held out his hand, palm up. 

“Oh. Sorry, I don’t have any tokens left,” Sam said. 

“Well, let me know when you do,” Bill said. He picked up the ladder and walked away.

“Wait. But I put in a work order for this!” 

Bill didn’t respond. He kept walking and whistling to himself as though he couldn’t hear him. 

Sam called after him. “It’s not an act of kindness. It’s your job!”

The mood around the office had gone from monotonous, to hopeful, to hostile in less than twenty-four hours. Sam tried to concentrate on his work and not on the negativity swirling all around him. Lunch could not arrive any sooner. He watched in anticipation, his foot bouncing impatiently, as the clock on his computer flipped to 12:00 p.m.

Penny waved when Sam entered the break room. “I brought you something.”

“What?”

Penny reached into her bag and presented a green crocheted koozie with a crab on one side. “I remembered you said green was your favorite color.” She placed it on the table and used her outstretched hand to push the wide-framed glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh wow! You made this? Yesterday?”

“No! No, I have a ton of these at home.”

“That’s right. You crochet.”

“Yeah, so I happened to have a cancer in green and I thought . . . you know.”

“Cancer?”

“Your sign. Your birthday is in July, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam regarded the handmade koozie and smiled. He sprung toward the vending machine and purchased an ice tea. He placed the can into the koozie. “It fits!”

Penny nodded. Sam couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave him a gift that wasn’t for Christmas or his birthday. It felt a bit sudden and perhaps unconventional given the short amount of time he’d known her. Still, he marveled at the thoughtfulness she had demonstrated based on the little information he’d provided her. “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I wish more people around here would do nice things just because.” He took a sip of his drink. “This token project isn’t going so well, is it?”

“I had my doubts. You can’t force empathy. It has to come from the heart.” 

Mr. Peters entered the room and opened the fridge without saying a word to either of them. He took out a jar of peanut butter, unscrewed the lid, and dug into it with a plastic knife, which immediately snapped in half. “Damn it!”

Penny had brought her own silverware from home. She stood and offered Mr. Peters a butter knife. “You can use mine, sir. It’s clean.”

“Well, thank you.” He reached into his pocket to procure a token.

“Oh, no thank you, Mr. Peters. I’m happy to help.”

“But don’t you want a token?”

“No, thank you. I think we should be helping each other when we can without expecting anything in return.”

“Well, you’re not going to win any contests that way!” He continued assembling his PB&J and walked out of the break room shaking his head.

“Wow,” Sam said after he left. “Why is this such a difficult concept to grasp?”

Thursday

On Thursday, neither of them had specified definitive plans to meet for lunch. It was understood. Sam purchased his can of tea and placed it into the koozie Penny had given him the day before. “Have you ever thought about selling these?” Sam asked as he took his seat.

“My parents say I should sell them at a craft fair or a farmer’s market, but I don’t know how I feel about that. Sounds like a lot of work.”

“You could sell them online.”

“Maybe. I don’t really know much about that stuff.”

“It’s not that hard to set up an Etsy shop. You just need to take some really good pictures of your product. I have a pretty decent camera. I’d be happy to help you with it.”

“Really? I don’t know.”

“Just let me know.” It occurred to Sam that he wouldn’t mind spending time with Penny outside of work. He certainly didn’t have much of a social life at the moment, or ever.

“I’m free this weekend,” Penny blurted.

Sam nodded. “Okay. How about Saturday, say noon?”

“Saturday is perfect. I’ll make lunch.” Penny pulled a stationary pad from her bag, scribbled on it, tore out the page, and then pushed it across the table. “Here’s my address.”

Todd came into the break room. “Hey, Sam! I thought I’d find you in here.” He looked at Penny. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Penny.”

“Nice to meet you, Penny. I’m Todd.” Todd turned back to Sam. “Look what I found.” He held up a fluorescent tube. Bill the maintenance man hadn’t put it away. “I know you’ve been wanting to get that light fixed.”

“I don’t have any more tokens, remember?” Sam said.

“No, it’s okay. I thought about what you said the other day and I think you’re right. I think we should be helpful even if there’s nothing in it for us.”

“Do you know how to replace those?” Sam asked.

“You bet. I used to do construction with my dad.”

“I’ll hold the ladder,” Sam said. The three of them walked back to Sam’s cubicle and got to work installing the new tube. When they had finished replacing the light, Sam thanked Todd for offering to help and for sticking his neck out for him since replacing light bulbs was most certainly against office policies for non-maintenance employees. 

“You’re welcome! You know, I think this whole token thing is kind of dumb,” Todd said as he folded up the ladder. “If you expect to get something out of it, it’s not really kindness, is it?”

“No, I agree,” Penny said.

Todd reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of tokens. “I don’t think I’m going to keep doing this anymore.” He pulled the waste basket from under Sam’s desk and tossed his remaining tokens in.

“Hey, are you crazy?” Chris had overheard them from the next cubicle and walked over. Chris dug through the trash can and scavenged for the discarded tokens. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t need them,” Todd said. “I’m not trying to be a good person just to win some contest. I just want to be a good person.”

Chris looked down at the tokens in his hands. “I’m a good person. But I still want to win the contest.”

“But you already have an Apple Watch,” Sam said.

“I don’t want the watch. I want the gift card. I love Outback.”

“Tell you what,” Penny said. “If you throw out the rest of those tokens, we’ll all go to Outback for lunch tomorrow. It’ll be our treat. Right guys?” She looked to Sam and Todd, who nodded in agreement.

“Seriously?” Chris said. “Why? I’ve never even met you before.” He looked at Sam. “No, with these tokens, I might just win this thing.” 

Many of the employees had already run out of tokens at this point and had mostly abandoned the contest. Chris had amassed upwards of thirty tokens, while only a handful of others remained in the running. Belinda trailed Chris by only six tokens. They had each entered a campaign to target the remaining contestants and coerce them into handing over their last tokens with grand gestures. 

Chris washed Mr. Peters’ car in the employee parking lot for seven tokens. Belinda gave back massages to three other employees for three tokens each. She baked cupcakes, brownies, and pumpkin bread and sold them out of her cubicle for one token each. Chris stood on a conference table and danced the Macarena, shirtless, to a crowd of amused employees who tossed a token or two onto the table when he had finished, struggling to catch his breath. Others around the office started taking bets on who would ultimately emerge victorious.

Friday

By Friday morning, as everyone bore witness to the lengths some people would go to just to earn another token, it became evident the project had failed in its original intent. They also began to take notice of a swell of voluntary acts of kindness around the office. They weren’t the kind of favors others were trading for tokens in the beginning. These were more subtle—kind words, a listening ear, a genuine recognition of hard work. The Empathy Project had become an office-wide joke.

The smell of pizza wafted into the office just before noon. Cindy Perlmutter had followed through on her pizza party promise. Although the free pizza was tempting, Sam decided instead to meet Penny in the break room as they had been all week. After all, he didn’t really care who won the contest. To his surprise, the entire office had decided to join them there—everyone but Chris and Belinda. They seemed to be the only ones interested in the results of the contest since they had invested all of their efforts into winning it. 

Sam entered the break room and squeezed his way through the cheerful crowd. Several employees had brought potluck items to be shared among each other—four-cheese macaroni, cucumber salad, tamales, banana pudding, lemon bars, and other sundry covered dishes. He made his way to the round table where Penny sat with her bento box still unopened. She’d saved him a seat.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“I think everyone’s boycotting the Empathy Project,” Penny said.

He glanced around at smiling faces and amiable interaction. “You realize this all started with you,” Sam said.

“What do you mean?”

“If you hadn’t asked me to lunch, I might have played along with this stupid contest just like everyone else. And just look at how much has changed!”

“I didn’t do it to change anything around here.”

Sam cocked his head. “Why did you ask me to lunch?”

“I told you. I thought you’d be good company.” She used a fork to stir the pasta salad in her bento box. “And I was right.”