I was sick of being pushed around, sick of being ignored. After another shit day at the office where my colleagues got all the credit for the work I’d stayed late to do, I’d had enough.
That night I dreamt I was invisible.
Not all the time, just when I got really, really mad. When some synapse in my brain fired just one teeny tiny bit too far. Like The Hulk. Except you wouldn’t be able to see me when I was angry. Fact.
When I woke up the next day, I was disappointed that it wasn’t true. Distraught, I cleaned my teeth, showered and dressed, ready for another day of disappointment in the office. It was all the same old shit until the 11am meeting.
Jack Bukowski, my ultimate nemesis, stood up on front of the room and gestured to Heather, his obedient PA and current shag-buddy. She tapped on her laptop and up popped Jack’s presentation.
‘The Importance of Standardised Excel Templates and how they can benefit US!’
The bastard hadn’t even changed the freakin’ title! Four weeks I worked on that thing. Four. Bloody. Weeks. He fired his laser pen at the screen and the assembled crowd ooh-ed and ah-ed their way through it. This was too much. TOO MUCH! I felt myself getting hot, and my hand shook as I leant across the table to pour myself a glass of water. None of them even nudged the water jug in my direction. My heart was pounding so hard I could see the front of my shirt starting to vibrate.
Then it happened.
‘Wilson? Oh my god, are you okay?’ All chairs swivelled to face me. I couldn’t speak, my throat burned.
‘Wilson? Where the hell did he go? Did he faint? Heather – can you help us out here?’
I watched them as they came towards me, circling me, scratching their heads at me. I’m here! I wanted to shout, but I kept my mouth shut and tried not to breathe.
I was freakin’ invisible!
I waited until they started to move away, muttering to themselves; where’d he go? Did he slip past us? Oh man, the power… I slid the chair back a couple of feet, just enough for me to get up and out of it without them seeing it move. I snuck along behind their chairs; blew on the back of Heather’s neck, and she jumped like I’d stuck a pin in her ass. That was definitely an idea for later.
First off though, I was going to have some fun. You know when your computer goes crazy and you can’t fix it and you lose all your work, and you say ‘I’m going to throw this damn thing out of the window’?
I did that.
Oh man, their faces! Bukowski’s looked like a bunch of purple sprouting broccoli.
I almost wished the invisibility would wear off right there and then; just so someone might actually notice me.