Now, there’s a health evaluation at work coming up next week.
The company has introduced new wellness benchmarks, and everyone’s struggling to meet them.
I know I’m supposed to talk about lifestyle changes and successes, but I’ve been avoiding the topic—not ready to share how something as small as daily pineapple feels like a quiet rebellion and a private symbol of hope.
The pressure to justify this habit, to prove it’s more than just an oddity, is building.
I’m bracing for it with a mix of dread and defiance.
In the office, the walls seem to close in.
The chatter of keyboards, the hum of the air conditioning, and the occasional ring of a phone blend into a symphony of monotony.
My manager passes by, his eyes sweeping the room but never really seeing us.
It’s as if he’s in his own world, one where our small struggles don’t exist.
“How’s the pineapple habit going?”
