There Isn’t an Easy Way to Say ‘No’ to a Zoom Meeting

(Bloomberg Businessweek) -- As each email arrived canceling yet another event during this crisis, I had the exact same feeling: relief. Why did I ever agree to these speeches, panels, lunches, and meetings?

I realized the only reason I had ever done anything was because other people were doing things, and I’m competitive. Suddenly, there was nothing to do. And while some people complained about being bored, I was most certainly not. I was finally getting to do all the things I’d wanted to do, such as learning Spanish, baking, working out, and becoming an American history teacher. The only person who was bored was the 10-year-old boy in my house who was learning about civil service reform.

Four days into my cleared calendar, however, a problem emerged. Not boredom. Not a lack of yeast. Something far worse: Zoom.

It started when an annual conference I attend invited me to twice-a-week, 6 p.m. sessions to discuss topics like home schooling, governmental leadership, and managing a work team from a distance. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I signed up immediately. And then when the Los Angeles Public Library asked me to arrange some live online author interviews, I did that, too.

Zoom calls combine the worst parts of FaceTime with the worst parts of real meetings. Participants are looking at themselves, wondering if everyone can tell they didn’t shower and yanking their hands away as soon as they touch their face. They can’t help checking their phones when they get bored on (in?) a call, which is somehow more offensive than when this happens IRL.

In the 1996 novel Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace spends seven pages imagining a Zoom-like future of “videophony.” People long for the days of the telephone, where you could tune out when other people talked and yet trick yourself into believing others were listening when you talked. Can we do that again?

It’s hard to come up with excuses to skip Zoom meetings when you’re legally mandated to be at home. Everyone knows you’re definitely not on vacation. It feels worse than ever to go with “I’m not feeling well,” but if I have to, I will.

Here’s how I’ve contemplated lying:

Organizer: Zoom brainstorm tomorrow at 2 p.m.?

Me: Sorry, my seventh child, who I’ve never mentioned, has to use our last computer for her virtual violin lesson then.

And I’ve thought about rumormongering:

Organizer: Zoom brainstorm tomorrow at 2 p.m.?

Me: Can we use a different provider? My great-aunt sent me an email saying Zoom is hoarding masks. Also, don’t take ibuprofen!

The only excuses I’ve had success with are real ones: I have to help my son with his schoolwork; I need to make dinner; I have to finish this article about canceling Zoom meetings. The excuses that work best in real life work best in Zoom life, too.

Much of my time is now spent rescheduling Zoom meetings because I had to cancel them for more pressing Zoom meetings. And I suspect other people have rescheduled our Zoom meetings at the last minute so they can appear Zoom-busier than they really are. The reason I suspect this is because that’s what I’m doing.

I need this lockdown to end soon. Because if this continues, I’m going to have no time to work.

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