Spoiled Meet
Jun. 11th, 2008 11:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"Never underestimate the power of human stupidity."
- Robert A. Heinlein
Today, for work, I was asked to attend a public relations strategy meeting with my counterparts from other like-minded organizations as well as the different-minded groups with whom we typically spar. The meeting was held in the conference room of our mortal association nemesis, in the belly of the metaphorical beast. To give some context, this would be like the Sharks inviting the Jets over for paella and a spirited discussion of public policy.
I was initially apprehensive of this meeting, not only because I would be face-to-face with the opposition but because I am simply not accustomed to face-to-face combat. As a communications director, I am most comfortable from my office command center, churning out media advisories, monitoring news updates and distributing easily digestible nuggets of information to our hungry membership.
Furthermore, while I am a reliable conduit of such information, I do not necessarily consider myself to be an authority or expert on legislative and regulatory arcana. Given my organization's reputation as a preeminent purveyor of such knowledge, I feared that I would be called upon to offer such expertise, especially by the villains across the table.
Sometimes, I need to remind myself how smart I am. I realize that sounds egotistical; I mean it not to be boastful but to assert in a relativistic way that other people are generally much dumber than I give them credit for being. (The difference between egotism and condescension is that at least condescension is ostensibly less self-promotional.)
I surprised even myself with my incisive approach to the questions at hand and my enunciation of a tactical philosophy, while deploying my small cache of policy knowledge just ably enough to convince people not to mess with me. Meanwhile, everyone else was taking off on flights of fancy, indulging in wildly hypothetical scenarios and generally tap dancing on the meeting agenda. I felt like a kindergarten teacher.
A business meeting can be like a prism: when used properly, they take light (or ideas) from different angles, with different intensities and of different colors and focus those elements into a single beam of light. When rendered poorly, they take a single beam of light and refract the shit out of it, sending crazy shafts of light all over the place.
Eventually, after an hour and a half, the others ran out of steam and decided to mull over our "discussion" before taking next steps. These are the professionals, folks. At least I'll feel more confident the next time out. No, wait. Confident is the wrong word. I mean competent.
- Robert A. Heinlein
Today, for work, I was asked to attend a public relations strategy meeting with my counterparts from other like-minded organizations as well as the different-minded groups with whom we typically spar. The meeting was held in the conference room of our mortal association nemesis, in the belly of the metaphorical beast. To give some context, this would be like the Sharks inviting the Jets over for paella and a spirited discussion of public policy.
I was initially apprehensive of this meeting, not only because I would be face-to-face with the opposition but because I am simply not accustomed to face-to-face combat. As a communications director, I am most comfortable from my office command center, churning out media advisories, monitoring news updates and distributing easily digestible nuggets of information to our hungry membership.
Furthermore, while I am a reliable conduit of such information, I do not necessarily consider myself to be an authority or expert on legislative and regulatory arcana. Given my organization's reputation as a preeminent purveyor of such knowledge, I feared that I would be called upon to offer such expertise, especially by the villains across the table.
Sometimes, I need to remind myself how smart I am. I realize that sounds egotistical; I mean it not to be boastful but to assert in a relativistic way that other people are generally much dumber than I give them credit for being. (The difference between egotism and condescension is that at least condescension is ostensibly less self-promotional.)
I surprised even myself with my incisive approach to the questions at hand and my enunciation of a tactical philosophy, while deploying my small cache of policy knowledge just ably enough to convince people not to mess with me. Meanwhile, everyone else was taking off on flights of fancy, indulging in wildly hypothetical scenarios and generally tap dancing on the meeting agenda. I felt like a kindergarten teacher.
A business meeting can be like a prism: when used properly, they take light (or ideas) from different angles, with different intensities and of different colors and focus those elements into a single beam of light. When rendered poorly, they take a single beam of light and refract the shit out of it, sending crazy shafts of light all over the place.
Eventually, after an hour and a half, the others ran out of steam and decided to mull over our "discussion" before taking next steps. These are the professionals, folks. At least I'll feel more confident the next time out. No, wait. Confident is the wrong word. I mean competent.
