How far can human goodness go?

That’s the question that the new “Panera Cares” café seeks to explore. A formerly run-of-the-mills Panera, it is now the first pilot restaurant in the franchise to try a novel idea: pay what you want.

But it’s not just offering negotiable—or even negligible, if you prefer—prices. It is completely nonprofit, and any extra money left over from expenses is given, as one employee told me, “back to the community”.

Of course, this spawns a natural number of other questions, the most important one being: how can one be sure that the offer won’t be completely taken advantage of?

When I first heard about the unique establishment, I was completely taken aback and a tad wary of its existence at all. Just a couple of weeks ago, I’d visited that same Panera. The whole operation, truthfully, seems like a suicidal one. Visions of snickering students getting sandwiches and then paying with a lucky penny found on the floor persisted.

The plan could never work—simply because there are, at the moment, too many obnoxious people out there ready to milk the system. Right?

Nevertheless, I decided to visit the place, scope out how it was doing in the first couple days of its rebirth as a charity foundation. Even as I pulled up outside, I could see the crowd inside. It seemed to confirm my worst fears.

Warily, I opened the door, and was greeted by a large banner over the bakery counter: “Take what you need, pay your fair share.” To the side were bagged breads—presumably leftovers from the day before—on a table. Directly in front of me, I found two cheery employees waiting. They were there to explain the system, they said. Lots of people—especially those had already been coming daily for lunch, I imagine—were naturally confused as to how they were supposed to even begin.

I was limited to one entrée, they told me, unless I was willing to donate the extra cost. Was I?

I nodded.

They smiled. It seemed that most customers were in fact paying—or, as they called it, donating—anyway, as they hoped they would. The objective, they explained, was not simply free meals, but to have those who could pay make up for those who couldn’t. In other words, they were relying completely on the goodwill of others.

At the register, my order was rung up, not with a price, but a sort of accepted value. Feeling charitable, I dropped extra into the donations box, which was already starting to look quite well-fed.

Where were those awful, awful people walking out with bagels, cookies and sandwiches all gotten shamelessly for free? Where were they? While I sat there during the peak lunch hour, I seldom saw anyone who didn’t drop their payment into the donation box anyway. I have even overheard people vowing to lend their business to the place even more than they might have before.

It was then that I realized how much of a cynic I had been. In the café, surrounded by benevolence, there was a tangible sense of community, something that I’ve never experienced before. Patrons genuinely wanted to give more, enjoyed the fact that their meal’s cost was going to a better cause. As did I. I’ll be back again soon. The experience was truly rewarding.

I promise that it will be just as rewarding for you as well. Sure, you could give your business to the Starbucks across the street. But, really, where’s the pleasure in that? Order your favorite food from Panera—it’s still there, all of it, despite the changes in structure. And chew over your good deed of the day as well.

How far can human goodness go? As of what I’ve seen, pretty far.