That's him.  Well, none of us really like him.  He doesn't talk to anybody.  I mean, he does his job - so-so, not a super-star by any means.  Does what he's told.  The secretaries have him running downstairs for supplies for chrissakes.

So he's at the other end of the
table, practically off in the shadows, and you can tell he doesn't want
to be there.  He's got that smile locked on his face.  Occasionally one
of the girls feels sorry for him and says something to him, and then
that little laugh and he says something back you can barely hear - and
even if you could it wouldn't matter anyway.  He's wrapped tight as a
drum, sipping a seltzer and lime, trying to pass it off as a G&T.