This Meeting Could’ve Been an Email — A Memoir

August 06 2025, 5 min reading time

Chapter 1: The Calendar Invite from Hell
It started, like all great tragedies, with a calendar notification.

“Recurring Weekly Sync – All Hands – Mandatory.”
Every word more threatening than the last. “All Hands”? Why are all my hands needed? I only use one to stir coffee and the other to scroll job listings during these.

I knew what was coming: a 73-minute digital hostage situation led by someone who thinks ‘synergy’ is a personality.

Chapter 2: The Gathering of the Damned
9:01 AM.
We join the meeting. On time. Big mistake. First thing I see:

Karen’s camera is aimed directly at her forehead.
Steve’s mic is off, but I can still hear him breathing somehow.
The intern is smiling way too hard for someone who just found out we don’t have dental.

The host is late. Of course.

9:07 AM — They arrive with the energy of a TED Talk no one asked for. “Sorry! Had trouble finding the link!”
Sir, you created the link.

Chapter 3: The Opening Statement (a.k.a. The Verbal Waterboarding)
The meeting kicks off with a 12-minute “quick update” that includes:

A story about their dog.
An unverified weather report.
And a PowerPoint slide titled “Q3 Revenue Synergies: Unlocking Potential Through Alignment.”

I black out momentarily.

When I regain consciousness, we’re talking about “stakeholder buy-in.” No one knows what it means. We all nod anyway. It’s corporate Morse code for please let me go home.

Chapter 4: The Roundtable of Pain
Now comes the most dreaded phrase in any workplace:

“Let’s go around the room and hear everyone’s updates.”

No. We don’t need that. We don’t want that.
Because here’s what we get:

Derek: “Not much to report really.”
Then proceeds to report for 9 minutes, using phrases like “value-add” and “leveraging cross-functional platforms” without blinking.
Susan: Clearly forgot this meeting existed. Freestyles her way through it like it’s open mic night at a sad jazz bar. Everyone claps. Not out of respect — out of relief that it's over.
Me: “Yeah, echoing what others said…” (Translation: I’ve done nothing and this meeting has ruined me emotionally and spiritually.)

Chapter 5: The Great Debate of Nothingness
Now we enter “discussion mode,” where someone raises a “quick question” that somehow becomes a full-blown war over font sizes in the weekly newsletter.

Yes. Font sizes.
Apparently, Times New Roman is “too aggressive.” Arial is “uninspired.”
Janice suggests Comic Sans ironically and gets removed from the Zoom.

Tensions are high. Coffee is low. Morale is buried somewhere in the shared drive, last edited in 2019.

Chapter 6: The Sudden Plot Twist
We hit the 55-minute mark when someone — a brave soul — asks:

“Wait… why are we having this meeting again?”

Silence.

Utter. Deafening. Silence.

The host fumbles. Eyes dart. Someone fakes a frozen screen. The truth is exposed: we’re all here… for nothing.

This meeting has no agenda.
No outcome.
No point.
We are trapped in a digital purgatory, victims of calendar creep and managerial insecurity.

Chapter 7: The Non-Ending Ending
Finally, the host hits us with:

“Great discussion today! Let’s keep the momentum going — same time next week?”

No.

NO.

SAME TIME NEXT WEEK?

The same time I’ve mentally scheduled to eat drywall just to feel something again?

But it’s too late. The invite has already been sent. The cycle continues.
This meeting — this monstrosity — is now eternal. Passed down from employee to employee like a cursed VHS tape.

Epilogue: An Email That Never Was
Here's what this meeting could’ve been:

Subject: Weekly Update
Hey team — just a quick update:

Things are fine.

Please use Arial.

Derek talks too much.

Let’s all keep pretending we’re aligned.
Cheers,
Your Overpaid Host

Length: 48 words.
Time saved: 1 hour.
Soul reclaimed: Immeasurable.

Final Thoughts:
Meetings are the modern workplace’s cruel joke — the illusion of productivity masked in screen shares and awkward silences. And this one? This one was my villain origin story.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another “quick sync” starting in 5. Wish me luck.