The Board Meeting, or, An Exercise in Patience

A narrator, a board meeting. Random first sentence generator.

The urge to interrupt him before he finished was overwhelming.

I stubbed my eraser to the legal pad in front of me and rubbed at a doodle instead. 

It was my third month as the new, and youngest ever *ahem*, Member of the (Very Important) Board and this man, this... person, was slowly breaking down my very will to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. What should have been a jewel in my Professional Bragging Rights was now a jewel stuck in the mud of my mental anguish. 

He. Was. So. Boring. 

What was he talking about? 

Was he even aware that this is a Museum board where we're supposed to get things done and not a display in said museum where we stare at each other through glass eyes while dust collects on our shoulders and hair and shoes??

Obviously not. 

I faked a neck stretch as I craned to see the clock. Four long minutes between me and the relative freedom of drafting a grant proposal. 

Alex, an older gentleman on my left, caught my eye as he pushed a lint fuzz off the table. We shared heartfelt, albeit brief moment of for-the-love-of-god-make-it-stop bonding, and then both resigned ourselves to faking attention for the last minutes of the monthly meeting.

I was sure a depressed French student somewhere was just finishing Huis Clos...

Author's Note

That's it. A short one. Huis Clos is a French existentialist play by Sartre where which three characters are punished in the afterlife by being locked into a room together for eternity.

Reviews

[Abderrahmane Dakir]

Great piece. Thanks for sharing. I like It.