She neglected her work in defiance, an meditated mediocrity. She sat in the corner, back, avoiding all eye contact and recommendations. When he would spring out of his two windowed office with a task that he was far to much at leisure to complete, she noticed that he tended to pick an employee whose name he could pronounce in one syllable, "hey Mick, could you type up the status of the Progressive report" or a suitable alternate within proximity of his office. Like a wave, his decibels would increase as he reached the climax of his request and then dwindle off to a whimper as he signified that it needed to be on his desk in the morning.
This is why she choose the desk, il-ly lit, by the fake ficus and the accountant with next to no idea that she had a mustache that pre-pubescent boys envied. Unfortunately, the moment Carl emerged from his sudoku to disperse another task was carefully orchestrated by the victims of proximity to be the moment that they were on the phone or elsewhere. So his stride, though of a much further distance than ever before, reached Jessica's desk with a sly smile and a tone of self righteous delegation. "Uh, Jess, if you could have this report typed copied and collated for our shareholders meeting by 400 today i would really appreciate it thanks" and before the gratitude left his lips and the paper hit her desk he had turned heel and walked to the sanctuary of his office. Checking her watch for the worst case scenario, she winced.