The Price Of Being Invisible

The 0-0,250.00 deduction. Success.

I stared at the paycheck stub, reading the line item three times.

The memo read: Dept. Retreat - Split Cost.

But I never went.

I didn't request time off; I wasn't even told it was happening.

I opened my phone and scrolled through the department group chat.

Nothing about a trip.

Not a single notification.

I switched to Instagram, where my feed was already saturated with colleagues posts.

Blue skies, ocean waves, grilling, bonfires.

The captions were all variations of the same saccharine sentiment

The Department Family! Love these guys!

The family.

I managed a small, dry laugh.

1.

Id worked in this department for three years.

Three years. I hadn't taken a single sick day, and Id never once been late.

I was the one who logged the most overtime, the one who handled the messiest, most tedious tasks.

But now, looking at that deduction, I suddenly felt like a punchline.

Paige Miller, could you sign off on your pay stub, please?

Ms. Davis from Accounting handed me the paper, her expression utterly neutral.

I pointed to the offending line: What is this 0-0,250.00 for?

The department retreat. Split cost.

I didnt go.

Ms. Davis paused, her brow furrowing slightly. You didnt? Wasnt it mandatory for the whole team?

I stayed silent.

She checked her computer. The system shows your manager submitted a full roster, including your name.

Who submitted the roster?

Gillian Shaw. Your manager.

I nodded slowly, took the stub, and walked out of the accounting office.

Gillian was our Department Head, promoted to Associate VP just this year, five years ahead of me on the corporate ladder.

I stopped by her cubicle.

She was sipping yogurt, and when she saw me, she offered a practiced, bright smile. Paige, everything okay?

Gillian, why wasnt I notified about the department retreat?

Her spoon froze halfway to her mouth.

You were notified, sweetie. It was in the group chat.

I didnt receive a notification.

You didnt? She put the yogurt down and pulled out her phone, scrolling rapidly. See? Its right here.

She tilted the screen toward me.

It was a separate chat, labeled The Insiders Club.

I scanned the member list. Twelve people.

Our department had thirteen employees.

The one missing was me.

Gillian, I pointed to the chat. Im not in this group.

She blinked, then laughed, a slightly too-loud sound. Oh, really? My bad, Paige. Must have slipped through the cracks when we set up the chat. So sorry about that.

But the money was deducted from my paycheck.

What? She paused, genuinely surprised this time. Well, then you need to talk to Accounting and get a refund.

Accounting said the roster came from you.

Then She hesitated for a moment. Ill make a note of it. I promise Ill include you next time.

Next time?

Yes, next time we have a department outing, youll definitely be invited.

I just looked at her, saying nothing.

She capped her yogurt container, stood up, and patted my shouldera gesture that always felt more like a dismissal. Paige, dont take this so personally. It was just an oversight. Were all colleagues, after all.

What about the money?

The money is an Accounting matter. My end of things was just the standard paperwork.

With that, she grabbed her yogurt and headed toward the break room.

I stood there, the pay stub clutched in my hand.

0-0,250.00.

Not a fortune, but not insignificant either.

It was the equivalent of three full weekends Id traded my life for.

Now, it was paying for a beach Id never set foot on.

I returned to my desk and opened my laptop.

An unread email from last week was sitting in my inbox.

Subject: Department Retreat - Travel Details.

I clicked it open.

Recipient: All members of The Insiders Club.

I was not on the CC list.

Attached was the itinerary: a three-day, two-night trip to Nantucket.

The per-person cost was 0-0,250.00.

It covered the charter bus, the seaside hotel, the dinners, and a special evening gala.

I scrolled down to the attendee roster.

My name was there.

Paige MillerFee Paid.

Who paid my fee?

I scrolled to the very bottom.

There was a line in small print: Fees will be collected via automatic payroll deduction.

I understood.

No one paid for me. It was simply taken from me.

The notification went to a group I wasn't in, and the expense was deducted from a paycheck Id earned.

It was all perfectly "normal."

So normal it was absurd.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

A memory flashed into my mind.

Last Wednesday, lunchtime.

I was finishing a proposal, so I skipped the cafeteria.

Later, hungry, I headed to the lobby for a snack.

As I passed the break room, I heard voices.

I booked the hotel in Nantucket. Ocean view, its going to be amazing.

What day are we leaving?

Next Friday. Back on Monday.

Perfect, finally a getaway.

I froze outside the door.

A trip? What trip?

I was about to walk in and ask, but then I heard a warning

Keep it quiet, though. Let Gillian handle the rollout.

It was Tiffany Brooks speaking.

She was the newest hire in the department, fresh out of college, but she was sharp and highly skilled at ingratiating herself with Gillian.

I stood at the doorway and walked away without going in.

I waited three days.

No one said a word to me.

I assumed the plans had fallen through.

Now I knew the truth. It wasn't canceled.

I was.

I minimized the email and opened Instagram again.

I scrolled through the photos.

Tiffany had posted a carousel, all vacation shots.

The first was a group picture.

Sunlight, sand, twelve people laughing.

No me.

The caption: The Insiders Club, family forever!

I tapped the comments.

Gillians comment was at the top: Our team is the most united!

Tiffany replied: All thanks to Gillians leadership!

A stream of back-patting followed.

I kept scrolling and saw one comment from Scott Lewis: Seriously had the best time. Hope we can do it again soon.

Someone asked: Where to next?

Tiffany replied: Whatever Gillian plans! Im tagging along!

I put my phone down.

Three years.

Id been here for three years.

No one asked if I was going.

No one even seemed to notice I was missing.

I looked at the group photo and felt an odd kind of emptiness.

Three years. Id written the most proposals, worked the most overtime, and taken the most undeserved criticism.

Yet, in that picture, I was completely absent.

I had never truly been a part of it.

The office suddenly came to life.

My colleagues were filtering in from lunch.

Tiffanys voice was the loudest. Hey, everyone, I finished editing the pictures. Sending them to the chat now.

Great, send them over!

Me too! Me too!

They clustered around her, chattering about the trip.

Seafood dinners.

Sunrises.

The beach bonfire.

Sand volleyball.

No one looked my way.

I put my head down and forced myself to work.

The proposal I was working on was still open on my screen.

I had rushed to finish it last Friday.

Id worked until 2 a.m.

When Gillian presented it on Monday, shed said: This proposal is the culmination of our teams hard work. Great effort, everyone.

Team.

Culmination.

Everyone.

I looked up at her.

She was shaking hands with a client, beaming.

I looked back down.

A notification popped up in the bottom right corner of my screen.

It was a message from Tiffany in The Insiders Club group chat

A-Team, lets aim for Cabo next time!

A cascade of Yes!, Count me in!, and Cant wait! followed.

I wasnt in that chat.

But my name would probably still appear on the expense sheet.

Wouldnt it?

2.

The next day, I went back to Accounting.

Ms. Davis, can I get a refund for the 0-0,250.00?

She checked her system and shook her head. I cant process it, Paige. Your department filed for mandatory attendance. We dont have a process for individual refunds.

But I didnt attend.

Then youll need a letter from your manager, confirming you were physically absent. Only then can we initiate an exception refund.

I nodded. Understood. Ill ask her.

I went straight to Gillians desk.

She was chatting with Tiffany. Seeing me, she gave me a dismissive smile. Paige, something else?

Gillian, I need a letter certifying that I did not attend the department retreat.

A letter?

Yes, Accounting requires it to process my refund.

She paused, her smile turning brittle. Paige, that thats going to be difficult.

Why?

Look, your name was on the roster. The bus was chartered, the hotel was booked. You say you didnt gohow can I prove that?

I definitively did not go.

I know, I know, she waved a hand dismissively. But youre putting me in a difficult position here. I submitted the official roster. If I certify that you didnt go, it makes it look like I messed up my job.

I just stared at her, waiting.

She sighed. How about this? Ill reach out to Ms. Davis and see if theres another way to handle it, okay?

When will you have an answer?

The She glanced at her watch. Things are crazy busy right now. Ill try my best.

How long is try my best?

Her forced smile finally cracked.

Paige Miller, I said Ill try my best. Why are you being so difficult about this?

Tiffany chimed in from the side. Seriously, Paige, its 0-0,250.00. Is it really worth this drama?

I turned to Tiffany.

She was wearing a new dress, one shed showcased in her Instagram stories, likely purchased on the trip.

0-0,250.00, I said, my voice even. Is what I earned by working three full weekends straight.

Tiffany pursed her lips and looked away.

Gillian put a hand on Tiffanys arm and smiled at me again. Paige, I understand, truly. But you need to understand me too, okay? Ill try to handle this. Now, please, get back to work.

I stood there for a few seconds, then turned and walked away.

Back at my desk, I opened my computer.

One thought kept looping: Who put my name on the roster?

I pulled up the email and reviewed the attendee list again.

Next to every name was a detail: Registration Date.

Tiffany Brooks: April 15th.

Scott Lewis: April 15th.

...

I scrolled down to my name.

Paige Miller: April 20th.

April 20th.

What was I doing that day?

I remembered.

It was a Thursday. I was rushing to finish the quarterly presentation deck.

I worked until after 10 p.m.

I had no time to check messages.

More importantly, I wasn't in the group chat.

April 20th. The day before registration closed.

Someone had "registered" me.

Who?

I checked the email sender again.

Sender: Gillian Shaw.

She submitted the roster.

I took a deep breath.

I remembered another incident.

This past March.

The department had a dinner to celebrate meeting the quarterly targets.

I was working late that night and missed it.

The next day, there was a receipt on my desk.

For the dinner. Split cost: $75.00.

I asked Gillian about it.

She said: Oh, you didnt come? I thought you were. I already included you in the count. Ill be sure to check next time.

Ill be sure to check next time.

I paid the $75.00 and let it go.

Now, I wondered: Was I "forgotten" that time, too?

I opened my phone and scrolled back through my texts.

The notification for that dinner had also been posted in The Insiders Club group.

I wasnt in it.

I scrolled back further.

Last December. The company holiday party.

The department was putting on a skit and rehearsing ahead of time.

I remember seeing them huddled in the break room often.

Id asked once: What are you all up to?

Tiffany had said: Nothing, just messing around.

Later, at the party, the department performed the skit.

Twelve people.

I wasnt one of them.

I thought then that I just wasnt involved enough, that they were too polite to ask.

Now I knew the truth

I was "forgotten" then, too.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling tiles.

Three years.

How many times had I been "forgotten"?

Dinner.

Team-building.

Rehearsals.

The retreat.

But the deductions were never forgotten.

I picked up my phone and opened my contacts.

I found Scott Lewiss name.

Scott was a peer, the closest thing I had to an ally, though even that was a stretch.

I sent him a message: Scott, quick question.

Whats up?

The Insiders Club chat. Do you remember when it was created?

He sent a thinking emoji, then replied: End of last year, I think. Gillian started it.

Why?

She said it was for internal department-only communication.

Why not use the existing department chat?

He didn't reply immediately.

After a moment, he wrote: Paige, why are you asking?

I didn't answer him.

I already knew the answer.

End of last year.

What happened then?

I remembered.

That was when I completed a major project.

I finished it single-handedly. The client was thrilled and signed a huge contract.

When the annual reviews came around, I thought I was a lock for the Outstanding Employee award.

The award went to Tiffany Brooks.

I asked Gillian about it. She said: Paige, your work ethic is fantastic. But you need to improve on team collaboration. Tiffany, on the other hand, is great at connecting with everyone. She has real team spirit.

Team spirit.

My project involved countless nights of solitary overtime.

While they were team-building, eating dinner, and rehearsing, I was working.

Therefore, I "lacked team spirit."

I understood.

I finally, truly understood.

I wasn't forgotten.

I was cut out.

Since the end of last year.

Or maybe even earlier.

I sat at my desk, looking at the computer screen.

A new proposal was open, due today.

Gillians morning assignment.

Shed said: Paige, youre the most efficient. This ones for you.

Most efficient.

So I got the heavy lifting, the thankless tasks.

The retreats and team-building? Those were for the team.

I wasn't part of the team.

My phone vibrated.

It was Scott.

Paige, dont overthink this. She probably just forgot to add you when she created the chat.

Forgot.

Always forgot.

I replied with two words: No problem.

Then I put the phone down.

And I kept working.

What else was I supposed to do?

What could I do?

I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keys.

0-0,250.00.

Three years.

A group photo of twelve people.

I wasn't in it.

Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming weariness.

Not physical fatigue.

A deep, profound exhaustion that settled in my bones.

Too tired to move.

Too tired to speak.

Too tired to pretend nothing was wrong anymore.

I saved the document and shut down my computer.

I stood up.

Where are you going? Tiffany asked.

Restroom.

I left the office, but I didn't go to the restroom.

I went to the roof deck.

The office was on the 18th floor. I went up to the rooftop terrace.

The wind was strong.

I stood by the railing, looking down at the city.

Traffic, people, skyscrapers.

Id been here for three years.

Three years. No days off, no tardiness, no complaints.

I thought if I just did my job well, I would be recognized.

I thought if I just worked hard, I would be integrated into the team.

I was wrong.

Wrong from the very beginning.

Some circles don't let you in just because you try hard.

If youre not in the chat, youre never in the club.

I took a deep breath.

0-0,250.00.

I was getting that money back.

Not because of the money.

But because I refused to be the one who was "forgotten" anymore.

Refused to be the one who was "easygoing."

Refused to be the one everyone could walk over.

I turned and went back downstairs.

Back in the office.

Tiffany gave me a strange look. That was a long trip.

Mhm.

I sat down and opened my computer.

Not to work.

But to open my email.

I searched and found every email related to department activities for the past three years.

I went through them, one by one.

Date, location, attendees, cost breakdown.

I built an Excel spreadsheet.

I logged every instance of being forgotten.

Dinners: 4 times. Team-Building: 3 times. Rehearsal: 1 time. Retreat: 1 time.

Total: 9 times.

Total cost: $3,250.00. (Adjusting total cost to reflect the new per-event cost)

Times I actually participated: 0.

Times I actually paid: 9.

I stared at the number, a small, cold smile touching my lips.

Three years.

I had paid over three thousand dollars for a place that didnt exist.

A hefty fee, indeed.

3.

When it was time to leave, I didn't stay late.

Gillian looked at me. Paige, that proposal

Due tomorrow.

Tomorrow? The client is pressing.

Then let Tiffany handle it, I said, standing up and gathering my things. She has team spirit.