The Inner Monologue of Someone Trapped in a Meeting That Should've Been a Slack Message

9:00 AM - The False Hope

Okay, this meeting is scheduled for 30 minutes. That's not too bad. Maybe we'll actually get through the agenda quickly and I can get back to actual work.

Wait, why are there 12 people in this meeting? How many people does it take to decide on a lunch venue for the team outing?

9:03 AM - The Slow Realization

Why is Derek sharing his screen to show us a PowerPoint about team lunch options? It's literally just three restaurants. We could have voted on this in a group text.

Oh no, he's reading the menu items out loud. All of them. Why is he reading the entire Olive Garden menu when we all know what Olive Garden serves?

I should look engaged. Nodding. Yes, nodding shows I'm paying attention.

9:07 AM - The First Signs of Desperation

How is it only 9:07? Time has definitely stopped. This is some kind of temporal anomaly.

Sarah just asked if the Italian place has gluten-free options. Derek is now going to Google their menu to check. We're really doing this. We're really spending company time researching gluten-free pasta options for one person who could have called the restaurant herself.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I just left. Like, what if I said I had a "hard stop" at 9:15? Do I have anything that could be considered a hard stop? Does needing to use the bathroom count?

9:12 AM - The Performance Begins

Okay, I need to contribute something so I don't look like I'm mentally redecorating my living room, which I absolutely am. Maybe I should suggest we consider dietary restrictions?

Wait, that's literally what we've been discussing for the past five minutes. Good thing I didn't say that out loud.

I'll just nod thoughtfully when someone makes a point. Yes, very thoughtful nodding. I am a person who has thoughts about lunch venues.

9:18 AM - The Existential Crisis

We're now debating whether 11:45 AM or 12:15 PM is a better lunch time. This is my life. This is what I went to college for. To sit in a conference room debating lunch times with people who could just... eat lunch when they're hungry.

I could be writing code right now. I could be solving actual problems. Instead, I'm listening to Mike explain why he prefers to eat lunch at 11:30 because he gets hungry early.

Nobody asked, Mike. Literally nobody asked about your personal hunger schedule.

9:25 AM - The False Summit

Wait, are we wrapping up? Derek just said "I think we're all aligned on the Italian place." Finally! We can—

Oh no. Oh no no no. Jennifer just said "Actually, before we finish, I wanted to circle back on something."

Never say "circle back," Jennifer. Nothing good ever follows "circle back."

9:28 AM - The Descent into Madness

She wants to discuss the budget for the team lunch. The budget. For lunch. At a casual dining restaurant.

"Should we set a per-person limit?" she asks, as if we're planning a wedding reception and not a Tuesday lunch at Romano's Macaroni Grill.

I can feel my soul leaving my body. If there's an afterlife, I hope they don't have meetings there.

9:35 AM - The Bargaining Stage

Maybe I can multitask. I'll just quickly check my emails while they debate whether $25 per person is reasonable for lunch.

Wait, Derek is looking at me. Did he ask me something? I'll just nod and say "That sounds reasonable." That works for most meeting questions.

"Great, so you'll handle the reservation then?"

What? No! That's not what I agreed to! I was just nodding supportively at the concept of reasonableness in general!

9:41 AM - The Panic

Now I'm somehow in charge of making a reservation for 15 people at a restaurant I've never been to for a lunch I didn't want to plan. This is how it happens. This is how you accidentally become the office social coordinator.

"Should we create a shared calendar invite for everyone?" someone asks.

It's lunch. It's literally just lunch. Why does lunch need a shared calendar invite with agenda items and meeting notes?

9:47 AM - The Acceptance

I've stopped fighting it. This is my reality now. I live in a world where choosing a lunch spot requires a 47-minute meeting and three follow-up action items.

At least it's almost over. Derek is doing that thing where he summarizes everything we just spent 45 minutes discussing, as if we might have forgotten the intense debate over whether to go at 11:45 or 12:00.

9:52 AM - The Cruel Twist

"This has been really productive," Derek says, and I die a little inside because apparently our definitions of "productive" are very different.

"I think we should schedule a follow-up meeting to finalize the details."

I'm sorry, what? A follow-up meeting? To finalize what details? We literally just spent an hour finalizing details! What details are left to finalize?

"How about next Tuesday at 9 AM? We can confirm the headcount and discuss transportation options."

Transportation options. For lunch. At a restaurant six blocks away.

9:55 AM - The Final Countdown

Five more minutes and I can escape this corporate purgatory. I just need to nod along to the scheduling of Meeting: The Sequel - Lunch Planning Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

"Great meeting, everyone!" Derek says with the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely believes we've accomplished something meaningful.

We have not accomplished anything meaningful. We could have accomplished the same thing with a group text that said "Italian place, Tuesday, 12 PM?" and waited for thumbs-up emojis.

10:00 AM - The Aftermath

Freedom! I'm free! I can return to my desk and do actual work that contributes to society in some measurable way.

Oh wait, there's already a calendar invite in my inbox for next Tuesday's follow-up meeting. The cycle continues.

I wonder if it's too late to change careers. Maybe become a park ranger. Park rangers probably don't have meetings about lunch. Trees don't require consensus on dining preferences.

But then again, knowing corporate America, there's probably a meeting about which trees to plant and whether they should be deciduous or evergreen, and someone would want to "circle back" on the soil pH requirements.

At least I have six days to mentally prepare for Lunch Planning Meeting 2: The Reckoning. Maybe by then, someone will have invented a way to choose a restaurant without requiring a committee.

Spoiler alert: they won't.