A healthy attitude is contagious but don't wait to catch it from

Host: The office was a low hum of keyboards, phones, and tired voices. The afternoon light spilled lazily through the blinds, slicing the room into narrow stripes of gold and shadow. On one wall, a motivational poster — faded, slightly peeling — declared, “Teamwork Makes the Dream Work.”

The coffee machine hissed in protest somewhere near the corner, and the smell of burnt beans filled the air like resignation. People moved in slow rhythms, shoulders slumped, faces lit by screens instead of sunlight.

Jack sat at his desk, collar unbuttoned, tapping his pen against a blank page. His eyes were sharp but dulled by fatigue — the kind of fatigue that comes not from work, but from apathy.

Jeeny appeared at the threshold, carrying two paper cups and that familiar look of defiance — the quiet rebellion of someone who refused to surrender to monotony. She set one cup beside him.

Jeeny: “You look like a man planning his escape.”

Jack: “Just thinking about whether jumping out the window would be more productive than this meeting I’ve got in twenty minutes.”

Jeeny: “You’re dramatic even when you’re stationary.”

Jack: “I’m evolving. Slowly. Like an extinct animal.”

Jeeny: “Tom Stoppard once said, ‘A healthy attitude is contagious but don’t wait to catch it from others. Be a carrier.’ Maybe you should try that instead of extinction.”

Jack: “So you’re saying I should start a pandemic of optimism?”

Jeeny: “Exactly.”

Jack: “That sounds exhausting.”

Jeeny: “So does complaining.”

Host: The fluorescent lights buzzed, flickering briefly, and a few heads turned as if even the electricity was trying to find the will to live. Jeeny leaned against the desk, her coffee steaming softly between them.

Jack: “You really think one person’s mood can change this place?”

Jeeny: “I think everything changes when someone stops waiting for permission to care.”

Jack: “That’s poetic, but in here? People don’t want care. They want caffeine.”

Jeeny: “Then spike the caffeine with kindness.”

Jack: “You really believe that’s enough?”

Jeeny: “No. But it’s a start.”

Host: A man in a suit walked by, mumbling into his headset. Two others argued softly by the printer. Someone laughed — briefly, genuinely — and it felt like a ripple in still water.

Jack: “You sound like one of those people who think positivity solves everything.”

Jeeny: “No. But attitude decides how you fight the things that don’t get solved.”

Jack: “So what? I just smile through the misery?”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. You choose to see that misery isn’t the only thing in the room.”

Jack: “You make it sound easy.”

Jeeny: “It’s not. It’s a discipline. Just like cynicism — only healthier.”

Host: Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. The screen in front of him blinked to sleep — even his computer seemed unmotivated.

Jack: “You know, sometimes I think the world’s too tired for optimism.”

Jeeny: “Then that’s exactly when it needs it most.”

Jack: “You really think attitude is contagious?”

Jeeny: “Of course. Ever seen how one bad mood can ruin an entire day?”

Jack: “Plenty of times.”

Jeeny: “Then imagine what one good one can do.”

Host: She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes bright, her presence humming with energy that didn’t belong to the grayness around her. Jack watched her — a contradiction standing in the middle of the cubicle chaos.

Jack: “You really believe this whole ‘be the change’ thing?”

Jeeny: “No. I believe in being the spark. Change comes later.”

Jack: “What if the spark goes out?”

Jeeny: “Then you light another. Or find someone who still burns.”

Jack: “You talk like it’s simple.”

Jeeny: “It’s not simple. It’s stubborn. Big difference.”

Host: The air between them shifted, the noise of the office dulling into background static. Jack picked up the cup she’d brought him, turning it in his hands as if the warmth itself were a metaphor.

Jack: “You know, you’re dangerous.”

Jeeny: “Why’s that?”

Jack: “Because you make hope sound contagious.”

Jeeny: “That’s the point. It’s supposed to be.”

Jack: “So, what — I just walk into this meeting and pretend I care about everything again?”

Jeeny: “Not pretend. Practice. Eventually, it becomes real.”

Jack: “That’s the problem with optimism. It feels fake.”

Jeeny: “So does despair. The difference is, optimism pays better dividends.”

Host: Jack chuckled, softly, the sound genuine this time — like something unclenched in his chest.

Jack: “You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe the cure for this place isn’t a memo or a meeting. Maybe it’s just… attitude.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Leadership isn’t about titles — it’s about temperature. Raise it a little, and everyone starts thawing.”

Jack: “And if they don’t?”

Jeeny: “Then at least you’ll be warm.”

Host: The intercom crackled: “Team meeting in five minutes.” A collective groan rose from the cubicles. Jack stood, buttoning his jacket, his coffee in hand.

Jack: “Alright. Let’s go infect the department.”

Jeeny: “With?”

Jack: “Optimism. And maybe sarcasm. Equal parts.”

Jeeny: “That’s the spirit.”

Jack: “No — that’s contagion.”

Jeeny: “Good. Let’s spread it.”

Host: They walked toward the meeting room — two small ripples moving through a sea of indifference. People noticed them without meaning to — a quick glance, a half-smile, the first shift of atmosphere.

And maybe that was enough.

Host: Because Tom Stoppard was right — attitude spreads faster than instruction.

And in a world drowning in noise, it isn’t the loudest voice that changes things —
it’s the one that refuses to sink.

So as Jack and Jeeny disappeared into the gray-lit hallway, the camera would have pulled back —
to the office still humming, still dull —
but somewhere, under the static,
the faint, unmistakable sound of laughter began to grow.

A tiny epidemic.

A quiet revolution.

The first proof that one healthy attitude,
carried bravely,
can infect the world.