My pointless existence

I got up at the usual time today. I make a point of mentioning that because ordinarily, when it's a day for travelling to London, I have to be up at stupid o'clock (like 4 or 5am) to catch an early train. Today, the meeting I headed for was at 3pm, with a small pre-meeting, so there was no rush. I caught the 7.05am to Euston and so had a leisurely start.

The 7.05 is an express. Direct to Euston without stopping (except at Stockport of course, for historical reasons) it takes about 2 hours and because it is so quick it's usually packed out. I was lucky to get a table.

But the journey was one of those pointless business trips that any sensible person would assume no longer happens in the 21st century. I got up, washed, dressed, waited for the taxi, arrived at the station, bought a ticket, caught the train, then the tube, walked past the Houses of Parliament, and ultimately arrived at the office. It was around 10am. As usual when I turn up somewhere, I was roped into another meeting - this time to discuss how we're going to manage the series of customer workshops that need to take place once we've signed the contract tomorrow. Nothing I couldn't have done on the phone. When three o'clock rolled around we filed into the review meeting. Part of the business process, this meeting confirms that the contract is "good business" and that there are no problems with the solution, plan, resourcing or commercial agreement.

My job is to state that the solution is deliverable and that the plans have been underwritten by the development units. So I expected that sometime around 3.30 I would be asked that question, and I would say "Yes." That's all. Me saying "yes" was the sole purpose of my trip today. I felt like the man from del Monte. But I have to say it in the room. Like some archaic scene from a Dickensian workhouse, I have to be there. In person. Because that's the way it works. In fact, to discourage (as in, totally prevent) anyone dialling in to the meeting, the organisers don't provide a voice conference number.

Having said yes, I further expected to have to sit there throughout the rest of the meeting listening to the ebb and flow of the debate about whether we can sign the contract or not. People with egos the size of planets trying to score points off each other and prove they're more on the ball than the next person. And when it's all over, I would pack up my laptop and make the return journey.

It didn't quite turn out like that. Since the solution hasn't changed since the last approval review, there were no burning questions about it, so the board member chairing the meeting never looked in my direction, never asked a question and never once mentioned the solution (except to ask the development unit director whether we'd done stuff like this before). So I never got to say "yes." In fact, I never opened my mouth.

What's more, far from dragging on for an hour and a half, the meeting was over in 15 minutes. Now you might think that that's a bonus, but it just made me feel even more annoyed. I left the building at 3.35 and made it to Euston in time for the 4.05 back to Piccadilly. I arrived home almost exactly 12 hours after leaving. A 12 hour day to attend a meeting and not say a single word, just because that's what the process says we have to do. You might say the process is broken. I couldn't possibly comment.