Serving Karma Cold

1 My coworker, Sienna Lawson, begged me to bring her lunch every day after she found out my parents’ restaurant had made the city’s “Top 10 Eats” list. Because we sat one desk apart, my parents only charged her a symbolic five dollars—hardly enough to cover the organic ingredients, let alone the labor. When she took her first bite, she practically melted into her ergonomic chair. "I could eat this for the rest of my life," she declared. That is, until the new intern arrived. "Wait, she charges you five dollars?" Mackenzie Wright, fresh out of college and armed with a practiced, wide-eyed innocence, leaned over Sienna's cubicle. "I mean, I get it. Harper’s parents run a business, they have overhead. Totally understandable." She let the word overhead hang in the air just long enough to make it sound like a crime. "But my older brother just opened a spot two blocks from here," Mackenzie continued, her voice dripping with Southern-hospitality sweetness. "I can bring you a plate every day, completely free. All you’d have to do is post a little shoutout on your Instagram." Sienna’s eyes lit up. She agreed instantly, then let her gaze slide sideways toward me. "See, that’s how you do business. Unlike some people, who count pennies with their own coworkers." Sienna poked at her food. "When your family owns the kitchen, scraping the bottom of the pan into a Tupperware is effortless anyway." I kept my eyes on my monitor, a quiet laugh dying in my throat. Scraping the bottom of the pan. Mackenzie had been eyeing Sienna's lunch since her first week. Braised beef short ribs, garlic butter asparagus, and a side of wild mushroom bisque. "That smells amazing. How much does a spread like that cost?" Mackenzie had asked just yesterday. Sienna had puffed up with secondhand pride. "Harper’s family owns Hayes & Co. Kitchen. You haven’t heard of it? It’s an institution. Featured in the local Tribune." "Oh, wow. Doesn't that place have a forty-minute wait on weekends?" Mackenzie had smiled at me. "It’s so sweet that they make a special off-menu plate just for you." "It’s not off-menu," I had corrected her, keeping my tone mild. "My parents just pack up a portion of whatever the specials are that day." They worried about me eating greasy takeout, so they always set aside a pristine portion before the lunch rush hit. When Sienna found out, she pleaded with me to let her in on it, paying me upfront on Venmo at the start of the month. My mother, knowing Sienna was my cubicle-mate, insisted on the five-dollar friend-rate. Now, Mackenzie lightly sucked air through her teeth. "Five dollars is still five dollars, right?" I paused, my fingers stilling on my keyboard. Mackenzie threw her hands up defensively. "Harper, please don't take it the wrong way. Your family has to turn a profit, I get it." It was a polite sentence, but she chewed on the word profit until it sounded dirty. A few heads popped up over the cubicle dividers. Mackenzie pivoted back to Sienna. "My brother’s place is called Wright’s Kitchen. He’s desperate for exposure. Honestly, Sienna, you have such a great aesthetic on your grid. If you post for him, I’ll bring you lunch on the house. Every single day." Sienna set her fork down. She looked at my mother’s braised short ribs as if they had suddenly lost their flavor. "Actually free? Like, real protein, not just a salad?" "Of course. Good PR is worth way more than the cost of food." Mackenzie smiled, looking entirely too angelic. "One post from you is worth ten from anyone else." Flattered, Sienna snatched up her phone. "Well, what are we waiting for? I'll tag him today." She pushed my glass Tupperware toward the edge of her desk, suddenly treating it like clutter. That was when she delivered the line about me counting pennies. Another coworker, overhearing, frowned. "Where else are you getting a meal like that for five bucks, Sienna?" Sienna scoffed. "Who knows what the actual cost is? It’s a restaurant. She’s probably just bringing me the scraps they can't serve to real paying customers. Making a buck off a coworker… takes some nerve." Just yesterday, she had texted my mother personally, raving about the truffle reduction and begging for extra sauce. I swallowed the tight, hot knot in my chest and looked right at her. "You’ve been eating it for three months. It took you this long to realize it was 'scraps'?" Sienna choked on her breath for a second, but quickly squared her shoulders. "I was just supporting your little side hustle. I was being polite." Mackenzie jumped in, the ultimate peacemaker. "Harper, don’t be mad. Sienna just shoots straight, she doesn’t mean any harm." She paused, letting the silence stretch. "Five dollars isn't a lot, but day after day? It adds up. We're all on associate salaries here. Every dollar counts." The coworker who had defended me wavered, swayed by the math. "Hey Mac... does that free lunch offer apply to the rest of us?" "Does your brother need more influencers?" Mackenzie covered her mouth, giggling. "Let me test it out with Sienna first! If she approves, I'll see what I can negotiate for the rest of you." Sienna nodded vigorously. "Don't worry guys, I have high standards. I'll know if it's trash after one bite." Someone across the aisle looked at me. "Harper, you should try it too." I snapped the lid onto my own container. "I'm good. I prefer my family's cooking." Sienna let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Makes sense. It’d be pretty awkward if Wright's Kitchen tasted better." I didn't argue. I simply turned to Sienna. "You have twelve meals left for this month. I assume you want to cancel?" "Obviously." She tapped her manicured nail against her desk. "Venmo the balance back to me. Don't short me." Without breaking eye contact, I opened the app, typed in sixty dollars, and hit send. In the transaction note, I typed: Balance for twelve remaining meals. Account closed. 2 Later that afternoon, I texted my mom. Just pack for me starting tomorrow. Sienna’s out. Her reply came almost instantly. Did she get tired of the menu? That’s okay. Your dad wanted to make sure you two got along, so he always picked the meatiest ribs for her box. I stared at the text bubble for a long time. The harsh blue light of the screen began to blur. I flipped my phone face-down on the desk and walked to the restroom, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes until the sting faded. By the time I returned, Sienna was parading a QR code around the office. "Everybody, go like Wright's Kitchen on Yelp. Once I vet the food, I’ll try to get you all on the VIP comp list." Mackenzie trailed behind her, offering a steady chorus of You’re the best, Sienna. My parents had practically subsidized her lunches out of sheer kindness, and in return, I was painted as a corporate hustler ripping off her peers. Now, the two of them were huddled by the water cooler, giggling over tomorrow’s menu. I was entirely iced out. At 9:00 PM, my phone buzzed. Someone had posted in the unofficial office Slack channel. It was a screenshot from Sienna, showing the menu for Wright’s Kitchen. Free lunch every day starting tomorrow, she wrote. The money I’m saving is going straight to my Sephora cart. A dozen heart-eyes and fire emojis followed. She added: Mackenzie is a real one. Doesn’t nickel-and-dime her own team. My finger hovered over the screen for two heavy seconds. Then, I closed the app and went back to refining the Q3 pitch deck due the next morning. Ten minutes later, the Slack channel lit up again. Mackenzie had uploaded an Excel spreadsheet, tagging Sienna. Sienna, you’re an Excel wizard. Could you peek at this for me before tomorrow morning? I’ll bring you an extra side of mac-and-cheese for lunch! The next morning, a brown paper bag stamped with the Wright’s Kitchen logo sat proudly on Sienna’s desk. Mackenzie unpacked it for her like a concierge, sliding a bottled artisanal iced tea next to the plastic container. "A little PR bonus from my brother," she chirped. Sienna instantly snapped a photo, uploading it to her Instagram stories and three different local foodie Facebook groups. New spot alert. Huge portions, insane flavor, and the owner actually takes care of people. Mackenzie hovered over her shoulder, waiting until the Post button was tapped before sliding her laptop onto Sienna’s desk. "Hey, so about that pivot table from last night? I just can't get the macros to run." Mackenzie bit her lip. "Valerie needs it by ten." Sienna glanced at the clock. "Isn't this your onboarding project?" Mackenzie lowered her voice to a whisper. "I’m just so new, I’m terrified of messing up. You’re so fast at this. It’ll take you ten minutes." She pointed at the brown bag. "My brother gave you double protein today. The biggest cuts he had." Sienna swallowed her hesitation. She minimized her own client emails and spent the next forty minutes auditing Mackenzie’s data. At exactly ten, Mackenzie pranced into our manager Valerie’s office with the finished report. When she emerged, she shot Sienna finger-guns. "Valerie loved it. You’re a lifesaver, Sienna." Sienna waved it off, though her chest puffed out with validation. At lunchtime, Sienna deliberately lifted her fork high so the whole aisle could see. "Now this is a portion size." I took a sideways glance. The container was seventy percent white rice. On top sat two deep-fried chicken thighs drowning in a thick, gelatinous BBQ sauce, resting on a bed of soggy potatoes and limp spinach. I didn’t know if it tasted good, but looking at the oil pooling at the edges, it was very clear that lunch wasn't free. By mid-afternoon, Mackenzie was back, clutching a stack of CRM profiles. "Sienna? I have that mandatory HR seminar at three. Could you just return these three client calls for me?" Sienna frowned, the exhaustion showing. "I’m already behind on my own outreach." Mackenzie softened her voice, dialing up the vulnerability. "It’s only three. You already have a rapport with them. They’ll listen to you." She leaned in close. "I told my brother to prep the pulled pork sliders for you tomorrow." Sienna let out a heavy breath and took the files. Over the next week, the "tiny favors" multiplied like weeds. Formatting slides. Making calls. Running down to the supply room to check inventory. Printing Mackenzie’s meeting agendas. Mackenzie never came empty-handed. A side of jalapeño poppers one day, a loaded matcha latte the next, a fruit bowl on Friday. And Sienna was drowning. She used to log off exactly at 6:00 PM. Now, the glow of her monitor regularly illuminated her face past seven. On Friday evening, she chased me down in the elevator lobby. 3 "Harper, wait up. Why are you walking so fast?" I put a hand out to hold the elevator doors. "Do you need something?" She squeezed in, her heavy leather tote bag bumping my hip. She let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Mackenzie wants me to draft her weekly recap. Interns are such a nightmare. They literally know nothing." "You can say no," I said, watching the floor numbers drop. "It’s not that simple." Sienna lowered her voice, glancing at the security camera. "You know how it is. You eat someone’s food, you owe them. She’s giving me free meals every day. I’d look like a total bitch if I didn’t help her out." The elevator hummed. "Then stop eating the food." Sienna’s face tightened. "Why would I turn down free food?" The doors chimed and parted at the lobby. She followed me out, matching my pace toward the revolving doors. Just as I turned toward the subway entrance, she reached out. "Look, how about this? You just start bringing me your lunches again. For free. I’ll slowly phase Mackenzie out. Honestly, I trust your family’s ingredients more anyway." A laugh clawed its way up my throat. "Why on earth would I bring you free food?" She bristled. "Because we’re coworkers. We’re supposed to look out for each other." I stopped walking. "You stood in the middle of the office and told everyone I was ripping them off." Sienna looked everywhere but at me. "It was a joke. God, why are you holding onto that?" "Because it wasn't funny." I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. "My parents cooked for you out of kindness. We don’t run a charity. Have a good weekend, Sienna." She yelled something about me being petty, but I didn't turn back. When I got home, the smell of roasted garlic and thyme wrapped around me like a blanket. I sat at the kitchen island and told my parents what happened. My dad was quiet for a long time as he wiped down the counter. Finally, he tossed the rag aside. "No more blurred lines, Harper. From now on, if coworkers want food, they pay the menu price. Business is business." My mom paused, wiping her hands on her apron. "Is her brother’s place actually better than ours?" "No. It’s just free." I pulled up Yelp on my phone and slid it across the island. Wright’s Kitchen. It had only been open for two months. It looked like a ghost kitchen—no storefront, just delivery. The page was plastered with aggressive promotions: Two-for-one combo $15.99! Meat-lover's box $9.99! Use promo code NEWBIE for $5 off! The sales volume was high, but the rating sat at a dismal 3.7 stars. The latest reviews were brutal. One complained the chicken tasted sour; another posted a photo of grease eating through the cardboard container. The owner’s replies were universally dismissive: Sorry your palate doesn't get it. No refunds. I scrolled further. Several of the 5-star reviews featured photos taken from the exact same angle on the same countertop. My mom frowned, adjusting her glasses. "At those prices, they can’t even afford food-grade oil, let alone quality meat." I took two screenshots, though I didn't send them to Sienna. Right now, she was treating this "free lunch" like a badge of honor. If I warned her, she’d just think I was jealous she found a better deal. The following Monday, Mackenzie made a point to pause by my desk, holding a steaming container. "Hey Harper," she smiled brightly. "My brother says once the cash flow stabilizes, he’s going to cater a whole lunch for the department." I nodded slowly. "That’s nice. But you should probably finish your onboarding tasks first. Valerie was just looking for your client retention logs." The smile slipped off Mackenzie’s face. She scurried back to her desk. Instead of opening her Excel sheets, I saw her immediately pull up iMessage and text Sienna. Sienna’s phone buzzed. She read the screen, shot a nasty glare at the back of my head, and typed furiously. Mackenzie scooted her chair over to Sienna’s desk. "Sienna, could you just run the macros for me one more time tonight? I’ll have my brother add an extra side of brisket tomorrow. And a slice of pecan pie!" It took Sienna thirty seconds of staring blankly at her monitor before she muttered, "Fine." By Wednesday afternoon, Sienna was slumped over her keyboard, her face the color of chalk. I got up, poured a cup of hot water from the dispenser, and set it next to her mouse. "Do you need to go to urgent care?" She waved me off, pressing a hand to her stomach. "I just ate too fast. Acid reflux. It’s an old issue." Hearing this, Mackenzie popped up and fished a packet of Tums out of her purse. "It definitely wasn't the food," Mackenzie said loudly, ensuring the aisle could hear. "My brother and I eat it every day and we’re totally fine." She dropped the antacids on Sienna’s desk. "Take these. You’ll bounce right back. And hey—I still need you to look over those Q3 projections tonight, right?" Sienna’s hand hovered over the Tums. "I’m really sick today, Mac." "But I already told Valerie you were going to help me finalize them." Mackenzie pouted. "You’re the absolute best, Sienna. My brother said he wants to take you out to a nice dinner this weekend to say thank you." Sienna immediately sat up straighter, masking a wince. "I’ll send the file before I log off." I went back to my desk. I didn't say another word. The hot water I brought her sat untouched on the edge of her desk until it went cold. Sienna wasn't stupid. She knew she was being used. But admitting it meant admitting that she had thrown me under the bus for a greasy piece of chicken that wasn't even worth five dollars. Her pride wouldn't let her back out. The next morning, Valerie marched out of her glass office, holding a printed spreadsheet. "Mackenzie. Who audited this data?" Mackenzie popped up like a meerkat. "I compiled it, but I asked Sienna to run a secondary pass for me." Valerie dropped the paper on Mackenzie’s desk. "You inflated the client pool by two hundred users, and the projected revenue is missing a zero. How did both of you miss this?" Sienna’s head snapped up. "I didn't input the raw data! I only checked the formatting on the back half." Mackenzie immediately gasped, her hands flying to her chest. 4 "I am so sorry, Valerie, it’s entirely my fault for not communicating clearly," Mackenzie said, her voice trembling just right. She turned to Sienna with wide, teary eyes. "Sienna had awful stomach pains last night, but she still stayed up until 11:00 PM helping me. She was probably just exhausted. That’s why she missed it." The office went dead silent. Sienna opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. She was trapped. She couldn’t rage at Mackenzie, because Mackenzie had just wrapped her betrayal in the guise of deep, empathetic defense. Valerie’s cold gaze shifted to Sienna. "If you can’t manage your own bandwidth, you have no business doing an intern’s work for her. Sienna, I want your own territory reports on my desk by five." Sienna flushed a deep, humiliating crimson. Mackenzie kept whispering apologies until Valerie retreated to her office. The second the door clicked shut, Mackenzie snatched the spreadsheet back. "Sienna, please don't be mad," she whispered. "I only brought up your stomachache because I didn’t want Valerie to fire you for the mistake." Sienna was vibrating with rage. "You explicitly pointed out that I missed it! Now she thinks I’m incompetent!" Mackenzie looked genuinely wounded. "But… you were the last one to touch the file. You sent it to me." Sienna had absolutely nothing to say to that. Yet, at noon, she still ate the lunch Mackenzie brought her. She rubbed her stomach with one hand, used her phone with the other, and posted the grease-stained styrofoam container to her Instagram story. Free lunch got me stuffed! Best owner ever. I saw the story on my feed and swiped right past it. That afternoon was the preliminary review for our new Q4 project. I had spent ten days bleeding over this deck. From client acquisition funnels to specific rollout dates, I had every single deliverable mapped to a point person. Valerie interrupted me three times with aggressively specific questions. I answered every single one without breaking a sweat. When I finished, she flipped to the last slide of my printout. "This is solid," she said, tapping her pen. "We present the final to Mr. Harrison next week. Keep heading in this direction." She looked around the conference room. "Mr. Harrison is going to select a lead for this project from among you. Competence is baseline. What he’s looking for is accountability." I closed my laptop, the tension draining out of my shoulders for the first time in weeks. Across the table, Sienna was staring down at her notepad, silent. But Mackenzie offered a bright, brittle smile. "Wow, Harper, you’re so lucky you have so much free time to prep your slides." I looked at her. "When you only do your own work, time is surprisingly easy to find." Someone at the end of the table disguised a laugh as a cough. Mackenzie looked down, her cheeks burning. Later, I walked to the breakroom to refill my water bottle. Through the cracked door, I heard Sienna’s voice. "All she did was put together a decent PowerPoint. Who knows how much she kisses up to Valerie behind closed doors." "Right?" Mackenzie chimed in. "She spends all her energy managing up. Of course she looks good. Honestly, her family's restaurant probably just bribes people with food to get those good reviews." Sienna scoffed. "She acts like she doesn't care. But ever since you started feeding me for free, I bet she’s losing her mind that she can't squeeze money out of me anymore." I pushed the door open. Both of them froze. I walked calmly to the water cooler and filled my HydroFlask. "I am actually pretty annoyed," I said quietly. Sienna immediately crossed her arms. "So you’re eavesdropping now?" "I’m annoyed," I continued, screwing the cap on, "because my parents went out of their way to pick out the best portions for you, and you turned around and called their food 'leftover scraps.'" I turned to face them. "As for the project—if you think all I have is a pretty PowerPoint, then beat me in the final pitch." Mackenzie forced a laugh. "Harper, relax. We were just venting." I walked out without giving her a second glance. Back at my desk, I ran through my deck one more time. Sienna’s antacids were still sitting on her desk, right next to the empty styrofoam takeout box. Just before 5:00 PM, Valerie dropped a bomb in the Slack channel. Mr. Harrison's flight schedule changed. The final pitch is moved up to tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM sharp. Final decks due to me by 6:00 PM tonight. No exceptions. I did a final spell-check, exported it to PDF, and hit send. Beside me, Mackenzie’s voice rose in panic. "Sienna, I haven’t even finished entering the data from this afternoon. Can you just merge the cells for me? Valerie is going to kill me."