This entry of randsinrepose made me smile. I bookmarked it with Google Notebook a while ago... So these are the typically creatures in a meeting:

The Anchor
Slogan: “It’s all about me”

The Anchor is the big cheese. This is the person that everyone is talking to and this the person who will decide on whatever needs deciding. When this person talks, everyone in the meeting is listening.

Meetings are power struggles between those who want something and those who don’t want to give it to them. If you’re walking into a meeting and you need something, your first job is to identify this person. This person is the reason the meeting is happening and if you don’t know who they are, you’re missing essential subtext. It’s actually pretty easy. Just wait for someone to say something controversial and see who everyone looks at.

There are two major things to be wary of with your Anchor. First, make sure they know their job. For standing meetings with the usual suspects, the role is obvious, but for one-time meetings, you can’t assume The Anchor knows it’s all about them. A clear agenda which anoints The Anchor right out the gate is the best way to make sure everyone knows who the decision maker is.

Second, you’ve got to know what to do when there is no Anchor present. You’re fifteen minutes in and you know the Sr. VP who is actually going to help here is not present. Sure, there are eight other people here that sure like to talk, but the best move is a reschedule. You’re wasting time.

Laptop Larry
Slogan: “Pardon me, what?”

Larry is easy to identify. He’s got his portable in front of him. That’s him right there. If the portable isn’t somehow not enough, just look for lots of intense nodding from Larry… that’s him not listening.

Larry pisses me off. He goes to regularly scheduled meetings that he knows are going to be 75% irrelevant to him, so he brings his portable so he can work. Turns out he doesn’t work because he’s spending half his time half-listening to the meeting proceedings. Go read that last sentence again. He’s not working and he’s not really listening which means he is actually a net negative when it comes to productivity.

Ask Larry to put his portable away. I mean it. If you can’t vivaciously participate in a meeting you were invited to, you should not be there. “Rands Rands Rands… I take notes on my portable.” No, you don’t. You take notes and when I use some proper noun you don’t recognize, you surf Wikipedia. If notes must be taken, designate one person to do it, I want you asking me what the proper noun is… not consulting Wikipedia.

A useful meeting is not a speech; it’s a debate. If I’m up there flapping my lips and you disagree or don’t understand, I don’t want you to nod, I want you to yell at me.

Mr. Irrelevant
Slogan: “I’m just happy to be here”

Why is Mr. Irrelevant here? He doesn’t have anything to add, he’s just all smiles that someone took the time to include him in what must be a very important meeting. He is mostly harmless.

The problem that needs solving with regards to Mr. Irrelevant is figuring out who invited this guy to the meeting? What were they trying to do? Why is it that you’re paying Mr. Irrelevant to sit in this meeting, nod a lot, and take notes? If you uninvited him, he’s not going to be pissed, but the question is, who is going to be pissed? Why did they invite Mr. Irrelevant? Is he a mole? Is someone gathering essential information because they can’t be there?

There is a reason Mr. Irrelevant is in your meeting and you need to understand that reason before you punt him.

Chatty Patty
Slogan: “I don’t shut up”

Another easy identification. This one never shuts up. Ever.

Your main issue here is time. Chatty Patty is incapable of conveying thoughts in a concise manner which means everyone time she opens her mouth, everyone else is checking out.

Your first job is to figure out whether Chatty Patty is actually Ms. Irrelevant. Fortunately, getting her talking is no issue. Your job is figure out whether the signal to noise ratio is acceptable. Once you’ve determined if she actually needs to be there, your next job is containment and, to do that, you’ve got to play her game.

Containing Patty is a simple process of asking questions in a manner that she wants to hear them meaning with lots and lots of words. Questions for Chatty Patty must be precise so she can’t verbally wander. Rather than ask, “How is QA?”, you ask, “Patty, I’ve read your test plan, your current test results, and I understand you have a brief assessment for us regarding the quality of the product. Could you please give us a brief assessment?”

You’re going to feel silly constructing these lengthy requests, but not only are you giving Patty a well defined space to wander in, you’re also saving time for everyone in the meeting.

Warning, don’t ever ever argue with Chatty Patty in a meeting setting. Combining Patty’s natural loquaciousness with emotion is a recipe for disaster. Remember, she already doesn’t know how to end a thought. Throw some emotion in there and she might never stop.

Translator Tim
Slogan: “I know every acryonym ever. FTW!”

Tim is the first of two utility creatures. His role is simple, he speaks the language of everyone in the room. When hardware and software get together to talk about the issue, Tim is the guy who translates software acronyms into hardware acronyms. Tim is essential when you’ve got groups of folks who come from very different parts of the organization.

You need to be wary if Tim isn’t neutral with regard to the topic that he’s translating. If he’s biased, he’s translating in his favor which means if Tim is on your team, you’re in a good shape. If he’s not, you might want to go find your own Tim.

Sally Synthesizer
Slogan: “What he’s saying is…”

I love Sally because Sally’s job is to end meetings. As our second utility creature, Sally can grab the conversation, no matter how messy it might be, and derive the basic truth of what was just discussed.

In large group meetings with a diverse set of personalities, you must have a Sally in the room because she is not missing a thing that’s being said and, more importantly, she’s aware of the relative significance not only of what is being said, but also who is saying it. She knows who the Anchor is, she knows how to shut Patty up, and while it might appear that she’s just stating the obvious, she’s providing essential forward momentum to the meeting.

Like Tim, if Sally is biased in a meeting, she’s synthesizing in her favor. Also, Sallys can get drunk with power because her skill is invaluable. When she starts to think she’s an Anchor, you’ve got a problem.

Curveball Kurt
Slogan: “The sky is pancakes”

Kurt is easy to identify. You have no clue what he’s talking about.

The first order of business once you’ve identified Kurt is figuring out if he’s Mr. Irrrelevant. This can be tricky since whenever you ask him a question, you see his lips move, he’s clearly speaking English, but you have no idea what he’s trying to say. Hopefully, Translator Tim or Sally Synthesizer is in the room to help out here.

Your absolute worst situation is when your Anchor is a Curveball. It happens more than you’d think. The most likely case is combining groups on vastly different parts of the organization chart. Think of executives brainstorming with engineers. Every executive wants to think they can chum it up with anyone in the organization, but when it comes to their day to day job, they literally speak a different language. This means you’ve got Curveball Kurt on both sides of the table. This is an impossible meeting without some type of Translator and Synthesizer in the room.

The Snake
Slogan: “I’m actually the anchor. Ssssssh!”

Some Anchors like to hide. It goes like this:

Big meeting with the executives. Sally gets up, sets the agenda, asks Larry to please, for the last time, put the laptop away, and then the meeting begins. Curveball Kurt gets up and says something unintelligible. Translator Tim jumps in and translates for Kurt, but he translates to the executive in the RIGHT corner. Aha! There’s your Anchor. Pay attention to the RIGHT corner.

The meeting proceeds. Mr. Irrelevant says something funny, everyone laughs and then wonders when someone will remove this boob from the meeting. Finally, we reach the crescendo of the meeting and the decision needs to be made and all heads turn to the Anchor. We wait for a second and he says, “Snake? Your thoughts?”

The Snake is the Anchor in hiding and he’s in the LEFT corner. For someone reason, he’s got the fake Anchor out there taking the heat while he sits there taking it all in. Maybe he doesn’t like the spotlight. Maybe there is some strategic advantage to the room not knowing he’s the man, but he is. Fortunately for everyone, the Snake move only works a few times within a company before word gets out who the real Anchor is.

Back to the worst meeting ever. It’s the last one I ever attended because when I walked in, I knew what the problem was. We all thought we had an Anchor in our VP of Engineering, but, the problem is, he’s wasn’t willing to assume the Anchor role. Since we had a bet the company decision on the table, we should’ve grabbed the CEO the moment it was clear the VP couldn’t anchor the meeting.

You might think we were also missing Sally Synthesizer. Someone to capture the essence of what happened, but that was me. I was trying to move the meeting forward by capturing the major thoughts and repeating them for everyone to hear, but it was a useless task since the Anchor didn’t want his job.

Forty-five minutes after the meeting began, I did something I’d never ever done before. I walked out of a meeting where I was a key player because I simply couldn’t waste any more time on this uselessness. Stood up, walked out, and slammed the door. Yes, it’s an emotional move which is almost always a bad move in business, but near the top of my list of professional pet peeves is the following:


(via randsinrepose)