I’m jogging down the quays in a last ditch attempt to cut some time off my tardiness.
I’m already twenty minutes late for work thanks to the 77 no show, and it was over half an hour before the 77a decided to grace me with its presence. By the time I arrive at my desk it’s 9:29 and I’m a sweaty sticky mess, although the jog has shaved a good eight minutes off my journey. I look around the office realizing that not a single person has noticed I am late. I check through my emails which further validates this. What was the point in jogging? What is the point? This last thought rings through my head for the majority of the morning as I blankly stare at my monitor. What is the point? I could probably swan in here at any God-given hour, and no one would even know the difference. Really Martin’s the only one who has any dealings with me, and for him to pull me up on it would be as much a damning indictment on him, because he didn’t proper micromanage me in the first place; didn’t give me enough work to keep me stimulated, challenged or plain kept busy. I decide to give my theory a test run by taking an extended lunch break.
I patiently wait for the clock to hit 12:30, and then walk up to Henry Street (I avoid taking the Luas as it’ll only shorten my lunch break). I grab a sandwich and a tea in the Jervis Centre food court taking a seat at the edge of the balcony, watching the crowds below scamper about their daily business. Before long I’m in a trance like state and when I return to my tea its stone cold. I leave the rest of it and have a wander around a few shops not looking for anything in particular. After a while even this becomes tedious so I set off back to the office when I return it’s just after two. Still no paper piles.
I quickly scan through my emails but there’s nothing more than jokes and updates on previous conversations. I mull over my office pariah status for the rest of the afternoon, when it eventually dawns on me that I’m not a pariah-I’m simply invisible.

Previous Chapter.

From the beginning.

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