I Hate Conference Calls

You hate them? I hate them more.

Gender Gap…

I am the only male on this conference call.  It doesn’t help.  I would suggest that the misery of conference calls are not gender-specific.

This is a dreaded combination — some people are on their landlines, some people are on their cells and some are sitting in what sounds like a very very large conference room with a speaker-phone, built, I imagine, in the late 70s.

The only problem is that when someone tells a joke in the conference room they explode in laughter which is sounds like a horrific scream in my ear.  Like someone is killing a cat.  Quickly, but killing nonetheless.

I love when the English say “reckon”.

We are 15 minutes into the call.  This is the saddest part.  I think we all go into calls saying “ok, here goes an hour which I’ll never get back,” and you sort of cross that hour out of your productive life, a time in which you’ll get nothing (but some blogging) done.  Then, maybe 3 minutes into the call, things are moving quickly and you think “man, maybe I can get out of this in 10 minutes.”  But NOOOOOOO!  It’s not going to happen.  After 10 minutes you realize that there is no way thing little gem isn’t going to go long.


One Comment

  • rubken says:

    Time is the crucial thing (I reckon). Calls always drag on whether they’re productive or not and suddenly they pass the magic threshold and we’ve entered the world of collective stupid. Once we’re there calls can last lifetimes.

    The elusive 10 minuter sometimes seems in reach but it’s always a mirage. None of us is as dumb as all of us.


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