Where did it all begin,
this mania for meetings? Back in the Paleolithic Age is
my bet. I'm sure anthropologists have come across cave drawings
of Fred Flintstone, Barney Rubble and some of the other guys (no
women allowed back then, of course) sitting around a large, flat
rock discussing the day's agenda:
(1) Read Minutes of Last Meeting
(2) Invent Wheel
(3) Discover Fire
Of course, by the
time all the attendees finished disputing the accuracy of item
No. 1, the sun had gone down; and items 2 and 3 had to be shelved.
I'm not sure, but I think they kept getting postponed until the
Neolithic Age.
Nothing has changed
much. Today business people the world over spend hour after
unproductive hour sitting around talking instead of doing.
The setting is different, of course.
Ankle-deep plush carpeting
instead of dirt floors. Yards of polished mahogany conference
table instead of your basic boulder. Walls decorated with
elaborately-framed, expensive art instead of hieroglyphics.
But the same old yaketty-yak, with everyone trying to speak a
little louder and a lot longer--it matters not about what--in
order to hog the limelight and the boss's attention.
You remember the boss.
He's the one who called this meeting in the first place.
Why? To develop a new marketing strategy? To determine
why the last quarter was such a disaster? To gather suggestions
for the company picnic? None of the above. The real
reason was so he could bask in the limelight and enjoy the spectacle
of his acolytes trying to out-yes each other.
Let's face it. If Mr.
Big wants to confer with his troops, he doesn't have to gather
them from the far-flung corners of his empire as did Richard III.
Today's fearless leader could simply set up a conference telephone
call, or turn on his computer and chat with his underlings in
cyberspace. Instead, the modern CEO spends mega money to
fly the company's executives first class to an exotic tropical
island where he provides lavish suites and gourmet feasts in decadently
luxurious hotels. In return they might be expected to attend
a pool-side meeting gobbling caviar while their chief outlines
belt-tightening measures to help the company survive the latest
tumble of its stock.
Unfortunately, this
insanity isn't confined to the private sector. I'd like
to have a tax rebate for every time a bunch of Washington VIPs
and their staffs fly, first class, to some luxury resorts to hold
meetings to discuss ways to trim the federal budget. This is common
operating procedure. Our elected and appointed bureaucrats
are in perpetual motion, criss-crossing the country and the continents
to meet with each other, with officials of other countries, with
constituents, or with various special interest groups. But
it's hard to blame them. The example is set at the
top. President Clinton, like his predecessors, seems to have spent
most of his administration (that is, when he wasn't in the oval
office with Monica) on gas-guzzling Air Force One flying to meet
with Putin, Arafat, Burak, and God knows who else. These
guys can't talk on the phone? I mean it's not like Willy
needs the frequent flyer mileage so he and Hillary can go check
on their Whitewater investment now and then.
I'd really like to
delve into this dilemma and solve it, but I don't have time right
now. I'm already late for my Anti Meetings Group meeting.
Rose Mula was an executive
assistant, a public relations specialist, and an operations manager
for a New England theater chain before discovering a passion for
writing.
Her work has appeared
in The Saturday Evening Post, Yankee, Modern Maturity, The
Christian Science Monitor, The Reader's Digest, The Philadelphia
Inquirer, The Baltimore Sun, and more than a hundred other
magazines and newspapers. Actually-thousands of newspapers, since
one of her essays, The
Stranger in My Mirror (originally titled, The Stranger
in My House), was reprinted in Ann Landers' nationally syndicated
column in 1999, and after an explanatory exchange with Ms. Landers, an attribution.
Rose's new book, If These Are Laugh Lines I'm Having Way Too Much Fun, is available at bookstores, through online bookstores, and from Pelican Publishing, 800-843-1724. The book was a finalist in USABOOKNEWS.COM's 2006 Best Books Award humor category. Meanwhile, she can reached
by e-mail.
