I'm not a fan of business meetings. I understand their necessity, but I'm a firm believer that the vast majority of meetings can be handled with an email or a phone call.
On a prior contract of mine, unfortunately, the client loved their meetings with at least a half dozen of them on the calendar between staff and leadership personnel. While not too onerous in themselves, each meeting spawned several more.
We had the "pre-meeting" to discuss what possible questions leadership might bring up in the "official meeting". Each of these possible questions needed to be run to ground with a full supporting analysis to back up the conclusions. After the "official meeting" would come a "post-meeting" to discuss and assign action items that needed to be addressed. Between the "post-meeting" and the next "official meeting" there was any number of ad-hoc meetings to gauge progress. This was the process for a single calendar entry. Extrapolate that to include all calendar meetings and you have a primary cause of lost productivity and the urge to bang your head.
One team lead, in particular, was notorious for extremely lengthy after-action meetings. His unfortunate crew would spend hours behind closed doors and do a line-by-line review of pertinent system log alerts. On one occasion I was "invited" by this lead to sit in on an upcoming session as he felt some of the topics would be relevant to me. They weren't, but I politely accepted.
I wasn't looking forward to the experience and wracked my brain for a way to extricate myself. I hatched a plan and conferred with a guy on my crew.
The day of the meeting, an audible ping from my calendar alerted me the time had come. I trudged into the meeting room. Stark white walls with industrial fluorescent lights gave the massive, dark meeting table a dark foreboding look. One by one, team members shuffled in with a defeated, dejected look. As the lead strolled in, he shut the door behind him. We all eyed it forlornly as it closed, like felons watching a cell door slam shut on our freedom.
It didn't take long before my eyes started to glaze over as line after line of incomprehensible error codes and alerts were brought up on the main display. Above the meeting table, my mind was on autopilot and I was a picture of serenity, nodding at appropriate times and jotting down random statements from the lead. Below the table, my legs were twitching uncontrollably, mirroring my desire the vacate the area as soon as possible.
I glanced sideways at my fellow inmates. Mere moments before, these folks were the picture of joviality around the water cooler talking smack over the previous night's game and making plans for the next happy hour. All that was now replaced by looks of grim determination, each one chanting a silent mantra, "I will not fall asleep. I will not fall asleep."
Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. The loud mechanical clicks of the room's clock threatened to stall during its sweep around its face. Then, at the predetermined time, came the knock.
The team lead paused his monotone delivery. "Yes? Come in." The co-conspirator from my crew slowly opened the door.
"Hey, Wayne, that situation with Dr. Fakename that you wanted me to monitor for fake problem just recurred. Can you come lend a hand?" With sufficiently feigned remorse, I looked apologetically at the team lead. He looked over his glasses at me and my rescuer, frowned ever so slightly, and then to my relief, nodded his approval for my departure.
The guy from my crew held the door for me and surreptitiously laid his finger alongside his nose, and I likewise, returned the salute. Looking back at the remaining captives, all their eyes were on me, hoping for a similar deliverance. As the door closed, I mouthed, "I'm so sorry."
Quiet Riot - "Metal Health" (Bang your head)
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