The Meeting That Could’ve Been an Email: A Field Guide

I’ve worked for a living a long time. I’ve shoveled things, lifted things, fixed things and broken things. And I want to tell you that none of it, not one minute, has been as physically painful as a 60-minute meeting about a 4-minute problem.

Let’s study this beast in its natural habitat so you’ll recognize it in the wild and know when to fake a dentist appointment.

The warning signs

• The invite title is one word. “Sync.” “Touchbase.” “Alignment.” These are not meetings. These are hostage situations with a calendar link.
• There’s no agenda. If a meeting has no agenda, the agenda is “feelings.” Run.
• It’s scheduled at 4:30 on a Friday. This meeting was put on the calendar by someone who hates you personally. Investigate their motives.
• There are 14 people invited. Nothing has ever been decided by 14 people. Fourteen people couldn’t decide on a pizza topping. Fourteen people is a jury, not a meeting.

The species you’ll encounter

The Screen Sharer Who Can’t Find the Screen. “Can everyone see my screen?” No, Dave. We can see your email inbox, which has 6,000 unread messages, and a tab called “how to look busy at work.” Keep going though.

The Guy Who Says “Just to Piggyback on That.” He’s not adding anything. He’s repeating what the last guy said, slower, with more hand gestures. He’s done it in every meeting since 2014. He’ll get promoted before you.

The Unmuted Breather. Somebody is eating chips next to their microphone like a raccoon in a dumpster. Nobody knows who. Nobody will ever know. It’s the great mystery of our age.

The Question Asker at Minute 59. The meeting is ending. Freedom is in sight. And then someone says, “Just one quick question.” There is no such thing as a quick question at minute 59. That question is a time machine, and it’s taking everyone back to minute one.

How to survive

• Camera off, eyes open. Turn off your camera and claim “bandwidth issues.” Use the freedom to eat lunch, fold laundry, or stare at the wall like a man who has seen war.
• Master the nod. If your camera must be on, perfect the slow, thoughtful nod. It says “I agree” and “I’m considering the implications” while your brain is actually thinking about whether you left the garage door open.
• Learn the magic phrase. “Let’s take that offline.” This is the most powerful sentence in corporate America. It ends conversations. It ends careers. It ends nothing, because nothing is ever actually taken offline. It just disappears, like socks in a dryer.
• Have a mug that does the talking. You can’t say what you’re thinking. Your coffee mug can. This is why God invented offensive drinkware.

A modest proposal

Every meeting should cost the organizer five dollars per attendee, per minute, out of their own pocket. You’d see a lot fewer “quick syncs,” I guarantee it. Meetings would be four minutes long. People would speak in bullet points. The guy who piggybacks would be bankrupt in a week.

Until that glorious day, we endure. We mute. We nod. We sip from mugs that say things our boss can’t read without squinting. And we dream of a world where it really was just an email.

Shop the damn thing: Mugs that say what you can't.

Sound off in the comments: What’s the most useless meeting you’ve ever sat through? How long was it, and what was actually decided?