Oh, the Mootings You'll Have!
I loathe mootings. Actually loathing isn't even good enough. They're the antithesis of my nature, the bane of my existence. Nothing in my TheCompany email fills me with weepings and gnashings of teeth like seeing an mooting "invitation" (as if I have choice), where I can be sure that large amounts of oxygen will be needlessly consumed and absolutely nothing will be accomplished.
Just so we're clear, a mooting is defined by a gathering satisfying any one of the following criteria
1) An pre-determined agenda or topic of any sort
2) 3 or more people in attendance
3) 15 or more minutes in length
4) If the phrase "action item" is ever uttered
Should you have all four in play, congratulations, you're in Hell. (And not that wimpy Fire & Brimstone kind, either...)
What's worse, this abundance of talking also deprives my brain of badly needed oxygen. As a result, I usually spend most mootings in a pitched battle to keep my eyes open, regardless of my previous night's sleep or the amount of caffeine coursing through my veins. Even Red Bull's much ballyhooed "wings" are no match for a good mooting. It makes the year 2004 even more forgettable in that while at my previous TheCompany (which was, not to put too fine a point on it, the closest thing to a "dream job" I will probably ever have... before it was wretched away from me by a merger... Damn you, Beavercreek, OH!) I had set a record of 6 months without a mooting (Me popping into the boss' office to bandy a few ideas around was it. It! O' Lost Nirvana!). My current TheCompany? They love mootings. They thrive on them. Some people's entire workday is nothing but going from mooting to mooting.
Dudette must have sensed my lamentations on my most recent narcoleptic adventure (Monday, trapped (like a rat!) in a 3-hour blather-thon). She sent me this pic, suggesting a possible way to camouflage my rendezvous with Senor Sandman. I'd have to grow a beard and dye my hair, but with future mootings already in jammed into my Outlook calendar, I'm seriously considering the look.
That's a capital idea, boss! Let me take an action item on that!
Just so we're clear, a mooting is defined by a gathering satisfying any one of the following criteria
1) An pre-determined agenda or topic of any sort
2) 3 or more people in attendance
3) 15 or more minutes in length
4) If the phrase "action item" is ever uttered
Should you have all four in play, congratulations, you're in Hell. (And not that wimpy Fire & Brimstone kind, either...)
What's worse, this abundance of talking also deprives my brain of badly needed oxygen. As a result, I usually spend most mootings in a pitched battle to keep my eyes open, regardless of my previous night's sleep or the amount of caffeine coursing through my veins. Even Red Bull's much ballyhooed "wings" are no match for a good mooting. It makes the year 2004 even more forgettable in that while at my previous TheCompany (which was, not to put too fine a point on it, the closest thing to a "dream job" I will probably ever have... before it was wretched away from me by a merger... Damn you, Beavercreek, OH!) I had set a record of 6 months without a mooting (Me popping into the boss' office to bandy a few ideas around was it. It! O' Lost Nirvana!). My current TheCompany? They love mootings. They thrive on them. Some people's entire workday is nothing but going from mooting to mooting.
Dudette must have sensed my lamentations on my most recent narcoleptic adventure (Monday, trapped (like a rat!) in a 3-hour blather-thon). She sent me this pic, suggesting a possible way to camouflage my rendezvous with Senor Sandman. I'd have to grow a beard and dye my hair, but with future mootings already in jammed into my Outlook calendar, I'm seriously considering the look.
That's a capital idea, boss! Let me take an action item on that!
posted by The Doctor at Tuesday, April 26, 2005
1 Comments:
what a great pic-- sounds like a capital idea
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