There was a man named Robert who I’ll always remember fondly. What a nut.
Probably close to his 60th year, with at least that many botox injections. He reminded me of Liza Minnelli’s “husband”. Robert was better looking, but he had that same plastic appearance.
There were six of us in a room that under normal circumstances would have been someone’s office. Three desks facing each of the longer walls. Robert got a corner, but it was still beneath him. He was too good for his job, his lot in life, his partner, his employer, his house, this city, you name it. If you put a man like this in a room this small with contractors (even though he was one of us), it doesn’t take long for something to snap in somebody.
He would later tell us that he had to persuade three of his friends with offices (this was meant to point out that he knew more important and better people than us) to relinquish their rolling whiteboards. 
Granted, they can be used for room dividers, but he put them all around himself. So, he’d sit at his desk surrounded by these three rolling walls of whiteboard to separate himself from us, the riff-raff. I always loved his busiest days, because he would open and close one of them like it was a real door and it was so fun to watch.
Nothing has made me happier about getting to my desk each morning since. I’d get to the office door each day and stop to smell the roses of being exposed to such an unapologetic fruitcake. I’d look at him (yes, he could still be seen, but we never told him) between these whiteboards and couldn’t help but laugh. He always ignored me, though, because after all, it couldn’t have anything to do with him – he couldn’t be seen.
He couldn’t conjure up a secretary, so he wrote “Robert is OUT” on one of the whiteboards with a box beside it that he’d check when he’d leave and erase when he was at his desk. I really don’t think he had any idea that he was still visible. It didn’t take long for us to write things on the whiteboard while he was out. We’d add things like “…to lunch” and “..of his mind” and “….finding more walls” and “…talking to better people than you” and ”…..and invisible, so please knock”. A gal who sat by the door would keep an eye out so we could erase our notes before he saw them.
Robert made for hours of crazy room-full-of-contractors fun. And yet, he never knew. I hope he’s somewhere nice with real walls and better people.
