Nobody knows exactly when it happened, but at some point, humanity embraced a dangerous idea: every problem deserves a meeting.
Need a decision? A meeting is called. Need information? Another meeting follows. Need to discuss why the previous meeting achieved nothing? That, naturally, requires a meeting as well. Somewhere along the way, the actual problem begins to feel like a minor administrative detail.
After spending nearly three decades in a large organisation, I honestly thought meetings were a corporate problem. I assumed that once people stepped out of offices, they got on with life and made decisions without presentations, action items, and follow-up discussions.
Then I retired. That illusion lasted about three weeks.
Schools had meetings. Clubs had meetings. Committees had meetings. It seemed that whenever three or more people gathered in one place, someone felt the urge to prepare an agenda.
It turned out that corporations had not invented meetings. They had simply perfected them.
Meetings were originally supposed to save time and improve decisions. Somewhere along the way, that ambition appears to have encountered a meeting. Most people now leave one wondering where the time went—and whether anything was actually decided.
Not All Meetings Are Created Equal
Meetings come in distinct species, each with its own habits and survival strategies.
The most common is the Information Meeting, where one person spends 45 minutes explaining something that could have comfortably lived inside a six-line email. Everyone listens politely, occasionally nodding to confirm they are still technically present.
Then there is the Brainstorming Meeting, advertised as creative collaboration. A few people generate ideas, a couple dominate the room, several quietly question their life choices, and one person insists that everyone must “think outside the box.” At that point, nobody is entirely sure where the box is anymore, but everyone agrees it should probably be discussed further.
Most fascinating is the Committee Meeting, where problems go to be carefully preserved, not solved.
Governments, in particular, have elevated this art form to impressive levels. Whenever something goes seriously wrong, a committee is promptly announced. Meetings begin. Months pass. Sometimes years. By the time the report finally arrives, public attention has moved on, governments have changed, and many people struggle to remember what the committee was originally investigating.
The committee, however, has done its job. It met regularly. A committee forms a subcommittee, which drafts recommendations for another committee. Eventually, the original problem either expires or learns to live independently.
The Cast of Characters
Every meeting has its regular performers.
There is the Enthu Cutlet, arriving early with colour-coded notes and enough energy to power a small neighbourhood. Every sentence begins with, “I just have one quick point,” which is never quick and rarely singular.
Then comes the Silent Observer, who spends most of the meeting saying nothing at all. Just when everyone begins to mentally leave the room, they clear their throat and offer “just a different perspective.” The meeting immediately acquires another twenty minutes.
Then comes the Human Echo.
“Just building on Anita’s point…”
“Adding to Raj’s thought…”
After a few rounds of this, Anita and Raj begin to suspect their original statements were perfectly adequate.
Finally, there is the Professional Skeptic. Every solution has risks, every suggestion needs review, and every deadline seems optimistic.
Give them a winning lottery ticket and they will request a risk assessment.
The Secret Language of Meetings
Over time, meetings have developed their own dialect—efficient, polished, and almost entirely meaningless.
“Let’s take this offline.”
Translation: let us never speak of this again.
“We’ll circle back.”
Translation: we are leaving this problem exactly where we found it.
“We need a holistic approach.”
Translation: we have no plan, but we are saying that confidently.
Entire conversations can occur in this language without producing anything tangible. Yet everyone leaves feeling vaguely productive.
Tea: The Real Project Manager
No meeting is complete without tea.
Tea often arrives just as a discussion begins moving towards a conclusion. Then the room suddenly remembers its true priorities.
Cups are distributed. Biscuits are evaluated. Side conversations flourish. By the time everyone returns to the agenda, whatever urgency existed has quietly wandered off.
Five minutes later, nobody can remember what was being decided. Some organisations appear to run less on strategy and more on caffeine and deferred conclusions.
The Zoom Era
If physical meetings were not enough, technology ensured we could now attend them from anywhere—including kitchens, bedrooms, and the fragile boundary between work and personal life.
Video is “optional,” which usually means a grid of initials, silhouettes, and the occasional frozen face. Only the speaker remains visible, bravely addressing a collection of black squares and muted microphones.
The ritual begins with the traditional question: “Am I audible?”
A silence follows. Not because nobody can hear, but because nobody wishes to become the official representative of the audience. Eventually someone confirms that reality is functioning and the meeting proceeds.
The danger comes when somebody suddenly says, “Let’s hear what Ravi thinks.” Ravi, who has not heard a word for the last ten minutes, is instantly awake. There is only one safe response. “Sorry, the network was a bit unstable. Could you please repeat the last point?”
If the question is repeated and confusion persists, experienced professionals have a second line of defence.
“I broadly agree, but perhaps we need to look at the bigger picture.”
Nobody knows exactly what that means, including Ravi, but it usually buys enough time to understand the discussion.
Do Any Meetings Actually Work?
Surprisingly, yes.
Good meetings are short, involve the right people, and end with clear decisions. People know what needs to be done, who will do it, and by when.
The strange thing is that most people do not hate meetings.
They hate unclear meetings. Because clarity is what makes even a ten-minute meeting feel like progress instead of punishment.
The Final Agenda Item
Maybe meetings are not the real problem. Maybe it is our belief that every problem requires one. Most people do not object to meetings that produce decisions. What they object to are meetings that produce more meetings.
A good meeting is not measured by attendance, presentations, or how often someone says “synergy.” It is measured by whether anything changes afterwards. Unfortunately, improving meetings is a complex matter requiring careful study, stakeholder consultation, and a structured review process.
A committee has already been formed.
Its first task is to decide the scope of the problem.
Its second is to schedule another meeting.
Tea will be served.
Progress remains under discussion.
Iti Mattoo, retired after 30 years in the IT industry, now enjoying her creative pursuits.
