Everyone in the office knew what the flowers on Emily’s desk meant. She had won again. Every month, the company ran a secret competition to improve morale. One month, employees guessed the number of paper clips in a jar. Another month, they submitted photographs of ugly household objects. The winner received flowers. Emily had won six times in a row. Her colleagues were becoming suspicious. She guessed the paper clips exactly. Her photograph of a lamp won the ugly-object contest. She even triumphed in the staff poetry competition despite insisting she hated poetry. When the seventh competition was announced, everyone formed an alliance against her. The challenge was simple: prepare a dish for the office lunch. No one told Emily what they were making. They created private group chats, guarded recipes and hid ingredients in unlabelled bags. On Friday, the meeting room became a buffet. There were pies, curries, cakes, dumplings and a spectacular chocolate tower that leaned dangerously to one side. Emily arrived carrying nothing. Her colleagues smiled. At last, she had lost. Then the office manager entered with another bouquet. “Emily wins.” The room erupted. “She didn’t make anything!” “She designed the competition,” the manager explained. “The prize goes to the person who got the whole office to eat lunch together.” Emily accepted the flowers while everyone groaned. As punishment, they sent her to the kitchen to prepare an extra dish from whatever ingredients remained. There was basil, garlic, olive oil, Parmesan and pine nuts. Of all the pasta sauces she could have been asked to make, pesto was the easiest.