The Wheel of Mild Regret

It was one of those late Friday afternoons where the work was done, but no one had quite logged off yet. Someone shared their screen, and there it was—a colorful wheel with a list of things that felt just silly enough to be okay. The energy in the chat was that quiet, curious kind, like everyone was leaning in a little closer to their monitors.

The first spin is always a test

We all just stared at it for a second, this digital thing that was about to decide our fate. Someone, I think it was Sam, finally unmuted and said, "Alright, who's feeling brave?" There was a beat of silence, then a couple of laughs. It wasn't a loud, raucous start. It was more of a collective shrug, a 'why not' that spread through the group.Mark volunteered. He clicked the button, and we watched the arrow whirl around. You could almost hear the held breath over the headsets. When it landed, there was this wave of relieved laughter—it was something easy, just changing your background to a ridiculous picture for the rest of the call.

When the stakes feel real (but aren't)

My turn came a few spins later. The wheel had already claimed a few victims to silly voices and impromptu karaoke. The chat was scrolling faster now, full of emojis and short, excited messages. The atmosphere had completely shifted from quiet curiosity to a kind of giddy, shared suspense.I clicked. The wheel spun with a cheerful digital sound, and my heart did a funny little jump. It's ridiculous, I know—it's just a game with colleagues. But in that moment, watching the blur of colors, it felt like anything could happen.

The verdict lands

It stopped on 'Tell a deeply embarrassing story from your teenage years.' The groans and cheers in my headphones were immediate. I took a deep breath, laughed at myself, and dove into a tale about a disastrous school play. The weird thing was, it didn't feel like a punishment at all.

The sound of a group relaxing

By the end, people were volunteering for spins, not waiting to be called. The punishments had escalated slightly, but so had the laughter. It was the kind of noise you don't usually get on a work call—unfiltered and a little messy.We logged off with smiles still on our faces. It wasn't about the wheel itself, really. It was about that half-hour where we all agreed to be a bit silly together, and how that simple agreement made the space between our screens feel a whole lot smaller.