Friday, March 18, 2011

Fridays and Meetings

Every Friday I wake up and realize that life is beautiful. There is a 4-day-long weekend ahead which will be filled with blogging, writing, cooking, walking, and all kinds of fun activities. This weekend will be particularly nice since I will be planning next week's trip to New York. (Expect many more posts than usual and a variety of pictures.)

Then, the meetings, which are the scourge of every Friday, begin. The first meeting usually goes quite well. The second one makes me begin to seethe. By the end of the third meeting I'm so angry with this unconscionable waste of my time that I'm ready to boil over. Sometimes, like today, there are four meetings scheduled, most of which are an utter waste of  time. The reason for these meetings is almost always the same: some bored administrator du jour decided to create yet another set of hoops for us to jump through and we readily complied. 

The extent to which we allow a bunch of semi-literate paper pushers to rule our lives is amazing.


Rimi said...

It's because they'd do stuff we'd be bored out of minds even contemplating. At first we think, oh thank goodness. Then they keep taking on more duties, and we continue to be grateful... till one day we realise we've pushed ourselves to the periphery of power by our desire to be left alone to do our own thing.

That's my idea, anyway.

Clarissa said...

That's exactly how Stalin came to power: he was prepared to do stuff other people found incredibly boring.

OK, that sounded way too dramatic.

Rimi said...

Actually, it isn't. One needn't murder at will to be a fascist or at least a controlling, powerful entity. So much worse than killing a person, delaying his/her pay, not signing certain vital documents, saddling them with fruitless but compulsory meetings, wrapping a person up in endless rules and regulations, most of which are inexplicable, keeping approvals for projects hanging, not correcting the home address on files so mail keeps getting lost. All of that would probably make me wish I had a neat bullet through my head.