The hum of the laptop fan was a dull roar against the rising tide of my frustration. Eight squares on a screen, each a portal to a different room, a different distraction, a different part of someone’s day I was now unwittingly consuming. My gaze drifted to the small counter on my desk, a little black box I’d gotten after an odd, almost compulsive urge to measure every single step I took to the mailbox that morning – 21 steps out, 21 steps back, every single one accounted for. If only we could measure these digital gatherings with such meticulousness.
Another minute bled into the next. “Can everyone see my screen now?” came the voice, tinged with a familiar strain of digital exasperation. Two people chimed in, one a hesitant “I think so?” and the other, a robust, utterly unhelpful “Nope, still black.” Ten minutes into an hour-long meeting, and we were still trying to get the presentation to, well, present. The host, bless their optimistic heart, hadn’t circulated an agenda. There was no stated objective, no pre-read, just a vague calendar invite promising a “Project Sync.” Sync, indeed. More like a slow, painful desynchronization of 8 highly paid individuals’ schedules and sanity. This one hour, by my rough calculation, was siphoning off approximately $1,761 of collective company resources, give or take a single dollar, just to watch a troubleshooting session unfold.
