Recently I attended an early evening meeting after already completing a ten-hour workday.  It may be important to know that I might not have been at my (most patient) best.

The meeting started calmly enough, but I was amazed by how many late arrivers disrupted the proceedings by making loud, raucous entrances.  It was like they wanted everyone to know they had arrived and it was irrelevant that they were late.  Clearly, they were under the impression that they were more important than the agenda.  After all, weren’t we all so glad to see them?  Hugs all around.

So, that was the first time I used my “church glare.”  That’s the look my mother used to give me when I would laugh or talk with my friends during church services.  Her eyes would narrow and she would make direct soul-to-soul non-verbal contact revealing her irritation at my irreverence. 

Order restored.  Now, back to our meeting.  One of the attendees didn’t agree with the direction of the discussion regarding the second topic on the agenda and began a loud sidebar with his neighbor.  Church glare number 2.

As the debate continued, the chair requested clarification from the attorney.  Another attendee, who was less than pleased with the attorney’s guidance, then began to argue historical events.  You know the phrase, “we’ve never done it like that before.”  And, he did that without being recognized by the chair.  Church glare number 3 followed by a loud sigh.

At some point, total chaos broke out.  Multiple people were shouting over the person who rightfully had the floor who began to speak louder to be heard over the cacophony of interruptions.  I glanced over at the exasperated secretary who was unsuccessfully attempting to record the proceedings.  My church glare was in overdrive, but I saved the meanest, sternest glare of all for the chair of the proceedings.  Finally, he banged the table and restored order.  Whew.  Relish the calm…

In an appropriately dignified manner, discussion continued.  Then, from the far corner of our elongated boat-shaped conference table came an unrelated, one-person dialogue.  As I realized the individual was actually having a personal cell phone conversation, my glare went into retirement and from my lips exploded, “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”  I really did say, “freakin’.”

What was wrong with these people?  Where was the respect for the other people who were sacrificing their time to contribute to this group?  Oh, I get that they’re passionate about the topics.  Of course they are.  We wouldn’t want ill-informed, apathetic individuals in the group.  But, can we please have a little decorum?

I left that meeting exhausted and mulled over the proceedings on the drive home.  I reached two distinct conclusions: the meeting chair’s duty is to maintain order and my church glare doesn’t pack the same wallop as my mother’s.