An unnecessary corner bit of the screen at the front of the conference room is listing the e-mails she’s receiving, and we are subjected to the ghosts of them as they fade into and out of view.
Ken wanders over, points. “If you click on this,” he whispers to her, the voice of the CEO still audible, “you can expand the screen and we won’t see your e-mails.”
Her bobbing head floats above the laptop’s keyboard. Nervously, her cursor floats above a different icon.
“This? Should I click this?”
“NO!” the room shouts together.
Incapable of stopping herself, however, she clicks; and for the second time in under 10 minutes, we lose audio contact with the CEO’s quarterly meeting.
“Aaaaaaaah.” The room moans as the video conference we’ve gathered for stutters, hangs up, and redials itself.
The conference, of course, continues without us; and 18 people bite their collective tongues as the twit with the laptop scrambles to bring it back.
I give her the fish eye. Sheri is one of those people who make you wonder how she manages to travel from home to work every day without suddenly discovering herself in a Quonset hut on an abandoned Air Force base. Outside of the ability to find anything an executive says either intensely interesting or blindingly funny, her actual skill set seems to be limited to repeatedly finding her way to her desk.
It takes several minutes to get back to the conference call, minutes I am sure contain both information regarding my long-awaited raise and my importance to the outfit (specifically) and mankind (in general).
Beep! Bee bee-bee beep-beep-beep boop beep boop boop!
“… and that is what we’re talking about, people. It’s that kind of strategic goal planning that’s going to see us through this next year. Sure the sacrifices that will be made – and now you know who you are – will be painful, but this is what we’re faced with.”
Eighteen people stare at each other, eyes wide.
I pass a note to the person next to me: Ask him to repeat that, would ya?
I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.
9 hours ago