We were on our way to a meeting when we encountered one of our team’s developers leaning over the railing of the fourth floor balcony in our building’s atrium, grimacing as if he was trying to pass gas.
We asked if he felt okay.
“Shhh!” he said. “That’s George down there.” George was a manager that everyone in our group reviled. Petty, bureaucratic, random, political, vindictive and (worst of all) technically not with it. We’d all wished he would drop dead of a heart attack at one point or another. George was four floors beneath us in the building lobby, having coffee with someone, and oblivious to our presence above him.
“I’m trying the Scanners thing, and if I think at him hard enough I’m hoping I can give him an aneurism.”
An instant later we were all lined up on the railing, brows furrowed, casting dark mental energies toward the coffee shop. I was hoping for at least a headache, or perhaps boiling his coffee and burning his lips on his next sip, but after a while it was pretty clear nothing was going to happen.
“So much for our psychic abilities. We can’t even give a migraine to a bad manager with our super developer mind powers.”