For my birthday last year, Jenna—a coworker I barely knew—gifted me a stunning gold necklace. We weren’t close, so the gesture touched me deeply. It quickly became my favorite accessory; I wore it to meetings, dinners, even dates. Compliments poured in, and I’d beam, “It’s from a coworker.”
Months later, polishing it, I noticed a tiny engraving: “Office Joke.” My heart sank. The next day, I casually mentioned it at work. Tension thickened the air until a colleague confessed: it was an old prank necklace, passed to newbies they doubted would stick around.
Humiliation hit hard. I’d worn a symbol of kindness that was really mockery at my expense. That night, I nearly tossed it. But I refused to let their cruelty define me.
Next morning, I wore it to the team meeting. As everyone settled, I stood: “I know about the ‘office joke.’ Since I’m clearly here to stay, I’ll keep it as my good luck charm.” Silence fell, then awkward laughs. The prank died that day. Jenna apologized privately, regretting her part.
Now, I wear it proudly—not as a joke, but as proof I flipped embarrassment into strength. When complimented, I smile: “Thanks. It has quite a history.”
