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Momentary Thought
Work! Work work work work work...
High/Low
High: I'm having a good hair day. Hot damn!
Low: Michael left his flight arrangements until the last second (and I mean *last*, since he's supposed to fly out today and just started trying to secure a flight this morning). On-line quotes are nothing less than $1,000 for a one-way ticket to North Carolina.
Current Obsession
There's an art show happening this weekend - original oil paintings, up to "sofa size", none over $49. Wonder if they're any good.
Grin Source
Definitely *not* work.
Singing
Nothing at the moment.
A Year Ago
More or less
Doing the Step-Mom Dance.
Storyteller
Bio
Dramatis Personnae
Who I Read
Recipes
Meetings are a way of life at AcronymCo. It's frequently commented that it's surprising that anything gets done around here, with the amount of time we waste in useless meetings. Which isn't to say that *all* the meetings are useless. Just the ones that I *don't* chair.
Heh.
In an effort to allow its employees to be more productive, AcronymCo has given everyone the ability to "tele-meet" or "net-meet". Telemeetings, as you may have deduced, involve conference calls via a teleconference bridge. Employees all call into one number, enter in a passcode, and are all patched into one phone conversation. Netmeetings operate under the same theory, whereby all meeting participants "dial in" to a common connection via their computers. A window pops up from which they can observe what is happening on the meeting host's computer. This is useful for demonstrating programs and editing documents real-time. All from the comfort of our own desks! No conference rooms! No coffee stained chairs! No BO from the room's last occupants! Woo!
(The only down side to this is that there is no opportunity for a covert eye-roll exchange with like-minded meeting participants at the bullshit the presenter is doling out.)
The two methods are frequently used in tandem with one another. And as is the Universal Law of Everything, the more people and the more types of technology that you add to a situation, the more things can (and will) go awry.
Take this morning. Please.
I sit down at my desk at 7:50. As I'm logging in, my computer prompts me to change my password. This happens every three months and it's always entertaining to come up with a new password on the fly. That accomplished, I check e-mail for a few minutes. I put my headset on and adjust it until it's as comfortable as it's going to get, and dial into the teleconference bridge at 8:00. I then launch Netmeeting (tm), find the meeting host's name, and connect. So far, so good. The demonstration commences. There's a slight echo on the phone line, but nothing that's preventing anyone from understanding what is said.
For a few minutes, anyway.
The host's voice starts getting *very* echoey, and she contacts the bridge operator for assistance. As soon as he joins the teleconference, everyone's voices develop a severe echo. You know how on Star Trek episodes, when they get stuck in a wormhole or space-time continuum or some such thing, their movements streeeetch out and their voices streeeetch out? Well, that's exactly what it was like on the bridge. Everything developed this TRON echo that made communication impossible. The bridge operator (I think) assured us (I think) that he'd get the situation under control momentarily. And all of a sudden, everything was normal again.
With the exception that we couldn't hear the meeting host's voice any longer. We talked amongst ourselves:
"Wanda? Wanda, can you hear us?"
"Are you on the bridge, Wanda?"
"Look, she's continuing with the demonstration."
"I don't think she realizes we can't hear her."
"Somebody pop into the chat window and send her a message."
"That's what I'm doing right now."
Moments pass.
"I don't think she's checking chat."
"Look at her trucking right along!"
"She's on a roll."
Laughter. Silence. We watch as her mouse pointer flies around the screen. Drop down boxes open and close. Text is typed into text fields. Checkboxes are clicked. Windows disappear and reappear.
Then, a pause. We observe her open her chat window. Yea verily, Big Brother is watching.
"Is anyone there?" she types. A general cheer erupts on the teleconference line.
"You figured it out!" someone types back.
"The operator must have kicked me off the bridge. Give me two seconds..."
She logs back into the bridge, and the meeting continues. For a few moments. Then, simultaneously, a groan erupts from the participants. A dialogue box has appeared on all of our screens, announcing an imminent security upgrade across the network, from IT. All programs will be shut down, and the upgrade will commence in 10... 9... 8... 7...
"And I bet they sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause," I mutter. We disconnect from Netmeeting (tm) and allow IT to take over our computers. I log off of the teleconference, and get myself a cup of coffee.
Just another day in the life at AcronymCo. Productivity once again thwarted by technological "improvements". Bah.