You meet all sorts at meetings

Careful analysis at work has given me a fascinating insight into the fragile ecosystem of the office meeting, and all it’s strange and varied types of participant.

Once, I could look at my computer-based calendar, and know that the next crucial appointment I absolutely had to adhere to was a Bank Holiday at some distant point in the future. Or occasionally be reminded it was someone’s birthday.

Since a major overhaul of my job recently, my screen now looks like party-animal appointments wandered in, decided they liked the look of the place, invited all their mates, then proceeded to have lots of unprotected schedule-based fun, resulting in hundreds of the little blighters packing each date, and my computer making a worrying groaning noise when I log into the diary.

It has become so bad, that I’ve actually been reduced to attending pre-meeting meetings, and booking meetings for myself to prepare for them.

One positive outcome has been the opportunity to observe my fellow attendees in their natural habitat. It quickly became apparent that there are a limited number of key attributes to these people, and they usually display just one, distinct, set of characteristics.

So the next time you’re staring forlornly at a plate of those biscuits that are always left when all the nice ones have gone, and wondering how your life led you to listening to somewhat describe a spreadsheet in detail, see how many of these you can identify:

RABBIT: Permanently nervous, looks wildly around the room, out of their depth and terrified someone is going to ask them something. In real life: Does whatever their mum says. Even if they’re 45.

WATCHER: Rarely says anything, looks thoughtful, and nods occasionally whilst smiling, creating a sense of paranoia amongst others. May not actually know anything, but dare you risk calling their bluff? In real life: The smug one at the pub quiz.

SCRIBE: Seems to be writing everything down in forensic detail, without actually contributing anything. May still be writing when everyone else has gone home. In real life: Enormously forgetful and... er...

OWL: Exudes a powerful aura of wisdom, knowledge and experience. Hasn’t just been around the block a few times, but probably built it in the first place. Regularly has questions put to them that start with “You’ll know this...” In real life: Your Mum.

FLAPPER: Shows up late, no notes, not sure what the meeting is about, can’t answer any of the questions as they hadn’t read the agenda. In real life: The annoying sibling that, for some reason, your parents seems to like more than you.

Any of those seem familiar? No? Next week I’ll introduce you to the Tunneler, Doormat, Tetch, Thor, Groaner, Smoothie and Master. If you get caught ticking people off a list at your next meeting, feel free to blame me.

I’ll be trying to work out if I’ve got any time to do actual work in-between all the meetings.

This post first appeared as my "Thank Grumpy it's Friday" column in the North West Evening Mail on the 17th of January 2014. I'd offer you the chance to read the version used by the paper, but for the second week, it hasn't appeared on their website, but did make it into the print edition. The paper added the word 'can' to the title, and missed the last line off.

When I started writing this one, I had three or four of the meeting types in my head, but without good titles. The more I typed, the more variants came to me. This would be good, but I didn't start typing until gone 8pm on Wednesday evening, and had to submit the finished 500 words that night. At 10pm I was well over 1000, so elected to tidy up the first part, sub it and sort the second half for the following week's edition.

The ideas that made up this did come from real life, so much so that I had a sudden urge to put something down on paper whilst in the loo at work (and that isn't a euphemism). I had a pen, but that was it, so wound up writing notes on a sheet of bog paper. Not easy with felt-tipped pen. Shakespeare, eat your heart out...

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