Justin reluctantly placed the carefully-packed lunch bag, perky in its bright blue and deep red trim, into the giant department refrigerator. As he did he wistfully wondered if today was the day he'd get to eat the lunch that Janelle had lovingly packed for him. Roast turkey- none of that tofu stuff this was the real deal- homemade baguette, creamy Havarti. And that orange-raspberry scone with the too-thick but somehow just right icing!
It had been weeks since he'd eaten his lunch. When the time came to retrieve his bag it was always deflated, heisted, lacking in the goods. LP had nixed the idea of a personal fridge, and with this heat ice packs just wouldn't do it. But HR said they had a plan, and NO- it didn't involve a camera in the fridge (which was Justin's idea...), they said Jeremy had seen the Hawthorne effect on some writing site called Vocal (like that was a writing platform!) and they were trying it.
With little hope, Justin entered the kitchen and was surprised to see two HUGE glowing eyes on the refrigerator doors. He was even more surprised that his lunch was still there. Whoever Hawthorne was; it worked.