For my birthday, a coworker I barely liked gave me a beautiful gold necklace. It was simple, elegant, and felt oddly thoughtful for someone who usually forgot to say hello in the hallway. I thanked them politely, tucked it on, and never took it off.
I wore it everywhere—big meetings, first dates, family dinners. It became my “confidence piece,” the thing I touched when I needed to feel put together. People complimented it all the time. I smiled every time, thinking maybe I’d misjudged that coworker.
Months later, while absentmindedly fiddling with the chain in the bathroom mirror, I noticed something tiny etched near the clasp.
“Office Joke.”
My chest went cold.
I laughed it off at first, convinced I was misunderstanding. But curiosity gnawed at me. I asked around, carefully, casually. That’s when the truth surfaced.
The necklace was part of a bet.
A group of coworkers had chipped in to see how long I’d wear it without noticing the engraving. Every compliment I’d received? They’d shared it in a group chat. Every meeting where I wore it proudly? Screenshots, jokes, laughing emojis.
I went home that night and took the necklace off for the last time.
The next day, I didn’t confront anyone. I didn’t cry at my desk. I simply stopped laughing at their jokes, stopped sharing pieces of myself, and started documenting everything.
Three months later, HR called a meeting.
Turns out the real office joke wasn’t me.
It was thinking cruelty has no consequences.
