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.