You can't see me

For those of you who don't now me in an office setting, I suffer from a debilitating affliction: Boardroom Invisibility Disease.

Buck up. I'm not looking for pity. I'll be ok.

BID isn't an obvious problem. Some might even say I look like a normal human being. But, as soon as I get into a meeting environment with more than two people, the suffering begins.

I like meetings. I really do. I enjoy the social aspect of sharing information in a physical space. So, don't start uninviting me.

It's just that BID causes me to assume a slight invisibility that only I can sense in most meetings.

"Everyone else is clearly so involved in the current topic that they won't notice if I'm not intently nodding along," I think to myself.

That's why, halfway through this morning's meeting I suddenly became engrossed in my finger nails. Yes, at the specific moment where you're talking global corporate strategy, I assume you won't notice if I start scratching away at an odd bump I'm feeling on my elbow.

You can't see me as I become aware of the weird fold on the inside of my jacket's breast pocket and start putting my hand in the pocket to make the material smooth again. I don't exist in your field of vision as my finger makes its way to my ear to get at a deep itch. No one hears me cracking all of my knuckles under the table.

In fact, I bet you weren't even conscious when I scratched my forehead so, um, vigourously, that I started bleeding--

"So, Daorcey, given your experience, how would you approach this problem?"

And suddenly, I'm visible again with blood on my hands and the echo of a cracked knuckle in the room.

Good thing nobody saw that.