Invisible Lives

Invisible Lives.

As I backed up against the door with the tiny window, through which I had seen a gathering of well-dressed, well-spoken slightly pompous looking individuals, I had a flitter of nervousness. That morning I had gone to the tailors and purchased a very expensive, but very well-made suit that if I do say so myself, made me look quite dashing. I was quite apprehensive about buying it, but well, this was my first proper profession and I wanted to dazzle the people. I really would like to carry on from here, but to understand it fully; you should know what series of events brought me to be in this particular place, in this particular attire, backing up against a door with a tiny window.

First of all, let me introduce myself. My name is John Ryan. I’m quite tall, 5”10’. I am quite a sporty person so I’m pretty toned and I like to think of myself as handsome. I don’t have a car and I rent an apartment above a shop in Grafton Street. I don’t have a job though so my parents pay rent for me. Don’t think of me as some spoilt rich kid though, they’re paying for my rent so I don’t go back and live at home. I was a bit of a handful I guess so they agreed whole heartedly when I announced I wanted to go to university in Dublin. They offered to pay food and board so I have it pretty good up here. They even offered to pay for rent if I graduated. I bet they didn’t think I actually would graduate, but they had given me an incentive and I couldn’t pass up the offer to tell them that I would be renting an apartment in Grafton Street. The look on their faces was priceless.

I had just graduated from university and was feeling quite pleased with myself for passing all of my exams. I had always been a bit of a party maniac but for the week of exams I had crammed all day and all night, relying on my old friend caffeine to keep me awake and refreshed. Needless to say, it granted me a very near fail, but I had come out the other side on a pass. So I was young, fresh out of university and “raring” to go. I had a notion in my mind, that as soon as I graduated a profession would fall into my lap and I would receive a nice fat wage and a pension. This obviously was quite a ludicrous idea but that is what I thought. I had done a very stupid thing at the end of my Leaving Certificate year. I had decided to do an arts degree, thinking that by the end of it, I would have some idea what I wanted to do with my life. But, as I said before, I was a party maniac and never got around to finding out what I wanted to do.

It’s crazy really, once I start thinking about it, how things suddenly began to fall into place without much activity on my part. I was walking down Grafton Street on a sunny day. Now when I say sunny, I mean the Irish version of sunny, which is, its cloudy, the sun is kind of visible but it’s not raining. I can’t quite remember why I decided to go out that day. I had been planning on having a lazy day in front of the T.V. but I think I needed to buy bread or milk or something like that, so I was out on Grafton Street, half window shopping, half wondering if I should get a job when someone bumped into me. It was a tall, well dressed, man who looked somewhat familiar. It turned out he was a friend of my dad’s in the restaurant business. I remembered that because he had taken me on a tour of one of them, through the kitchens and into the walk in freezers when I was young. He recognised me too, which isn’t a compliment as I hadn’t seen him since I was ten and was twenty one now.

We began chatting and he soon discovered that I had no job and he was looking for an apprentice. It really is crazy how it worked out for me. He told me to come to a certain address, with a tuxedo and a smile at six o clock. After I thanked him and went on my way I rang my Dad and told him about this business offer. He offered to buy the tux for me and loads of stuff he thought I might need. He needn’t have really, but I guess it was a chance for him to stop having to pay my rent and whatnot. He even got the train up to Dublin that same day. We spent the day chatting and hanging out like a father and son do. He stayed over at my place that night and that brings me to the next day when I got my tuxedo. It really was quite fancy. Perhaps a bit over the top but my Dad said nothing but the best for me. How could I argue when he was paying?

I started to get pretty nervous when it neared six. I didn’t even know what I would be asked to do but I was sure it would be pretty great. As I walked to the restaurant I began thinking what I would do and say. It would probably be some small job but why would he ask me wear a tuxedo? It didn’t really make sense because I had no experience doing anything.

I opened the door to the restaurant and stepped in. I don’t really know what I expected but what I’m pretty sure it wasn’t what I got. Tom (my dad’s friend) stood in the middle of the room giving orders to people. Men dressed in cheap tuxedos with bow-ties were scurrying around the place like mice. They didn’t even seem to be doing much, just scurrying as if they had some important place to be. I walked over to Tom and he began ordering me to do stuff. He didn’t recognise me in the tuxedo. He started speaking quite quickly. Something about being nice to everyone, and blend into the background. I had no idea what he was talking about until he said that I would be carrying the cocktails. It dawned on me that the “apprentice” job he had offered me was a waiting job. I was speechless. I knew I didn’t have any experience but the way he said he needed an apprentice had made me star struck and this was a blow to my ego.

I tried to think the best of this job, it would pay, I would have some experience to put on my C.V. and maybe I will find the thing that I was meant to do here. Even though I had these good ideas in my mind, it didn’t block out the fact that the amazing job I thought I had gotten, was a lousy waiting job. I began thinking that I might still dazzle the people that I would be waiting on in my fancy tuxedo. Wild notions began in my mind once more. I began fantasizing that one of the individuals would see me and immediately tell me to put that tray down and join them. Perhaps hand me a check for a considerable sum of money. Obviously these were crazy fantasy’s that had no chance of coming true but being who I am I couldn’t help it. I began receiving orders to do tasks which seemed ridiculous but I obeyed in the hope of this being a dream.

I was handed a tray filled with cocktails with a little umbrella in each glass. Some had a cherry in them, some were plain. I felt like I was wondering through a dream where I was just a pair of hands and a tuxedo and the rest of me was invisible. As I backed up against the door with the tiny window I felt pretty awkward. Outside were the fancy people who I thought I would be enjoying the evening with. Yet here I was, carrying a tray of cocktails, about to become their invisible servant. I walked through crowds of people and could not see much but hands grabbing the glasses which were laid out in front of me. No one could see me; I was just the thing that carried their drunken evening. Soon, the tray was empty and I had to return to the kitchen. As I backed up against the door with the tiny window once more, I began to think about what brought me to being in this particular place, in this particular attire feeling this outrageous and distraught.

By Laura Collins