There are days at work that pass quietly, with the soft hum of laptops and the smell of coffee drifting through the air. And then some days remind me why I do what I do.
One of those days started like any other. I was at the front desk at Skills Hub, welcoming members and checking bookings when Zelda walked in. She was one of our regulars, a warm, lively woman who always greeted everyone with a smile. But that morning was different. Her eyes looked tired, and the smile she managed felt like it took effort.
Good morning, Zelda, I said, trying to sound cheerful. Using the private office today?
She nodded quietly. Yes, please. Her voice was low, almost fragile. As she settled into her usual spot, I couldn’t help noticing how still she sat, staring blankly at her laptop. I hesitated for a while, then walked over with a cup of my favorite tea, Twinings. Do you care for this? I asked gently.
She looked up, surprised, and then smiled faintly. Thank you, Constance, she said. After a pause, she added, it’s been a hard week.
I didn’t ask for details right away. Sometimes silence speaks louder than questions. But after a while, as the space around us softened, she began to share.
Her marriage was ending. The divorce papers had been signed that week, and she was trying to keep herself together while running her small business. I didn’t want to stay home and think, she said quietly. So, I came here. It feels normal.
That moment changed something in me. I realized empathy isn’t about saying the perfect words or fixing someone’s pain. It’s about being there. Just being present in a way that reminds another person they’re not invisible.
I remember sitting with her for a few minutes, listening more than speaking. There was nothing I could do to erase what she was feeling, but offering that small moment of kindness, a cup of tea, a listening ear, seemed to lift a bit of the weight off her shoulders.
Over the next few weeks, Zelda began to smile again. She told me the coworking space became her safe place, a space where she could focus, rebuild her confidence, and feel seen without judgment. Seeing that transformation reminded me why empathy matters so much in my work.
As a Customer Experience Associate, I meet people at different stages of their journeys. Some walk in full of ideas and excitement, others carry quiet burdens you wouldn’t notice unless you look closely. Empathy helps me bridge that gap, to see the person before the problem, to listen before reacting.
What I learned from Zelda’s story is that sometimes, people don’t come to coworking spaces just to work. They come to belong, to heal, and to energize.
From that day, empathy stopped being a concept for me. It became a practice. It became the way I choose to show up for others every single day. Because at the end of it all, customer experience isn’t about spaces or services. It’s about people. And when people feel understood, they thrive.