Committees are a magnet for a particular person

Those of us who’ve served on committees know they attract odd folk. And committees, whether with sport, school or church, are notable as a group who individually can do nothing, but as a group decide nothing can be done.

And they’re a magnet for a particular person (in most cases, a man) – women usually add value to the garbage sprouted; sorry, let me quickly adjust: the women speak sense – they don’t add to the garbage. Savvy?

Our man is well-spoken, smartly dressed (one fella even sporting a bow tie), and enters the meeting with a Louis Vuitton satchel filled with reams of documents, well prepared, anticipating every counter from chairperson or floor. And he prefaces his monotone with, “Through the chair”. The intimidated chair allows him “through”, giving him sole rights to the floor.

Sadly for the entrapped listeners, he is pedantic, tedious, dull, repetitious and unrelieved. Mr Know-all speaks down to anyone daring to take him on. And stares at his victims with righteous indignation.

Over too many years I’ve done private studies of these individuals on committees – even management meetings in the corporate world where they suck up to the bosses with verbal fawning. And the common thread running through is that work-wise they hold, or have held, high positions, and feel it their right to foist their experience on whom they believe lack their experience and intelligence.

Mr High Fallutin is unaware of, or ignores the fact, that among the fellow members are professional people like engineers, doctors and teachers, but prefer to do the job for which they’re been appointed, instead of spending hours adding or listening to a tiresome tirade.

And the other characteristic marking this pompous stuffed shirt is when it comes to doing the actual function, he’s a missing link. Hiding behind the chair, as it were.

I have found the solution by playing noughts and crosses on my note pad (or budget spread sheet). One chap brings along earplugs. A lady hums the anthem, another snores, another prays.

But he does save us from having to think. So, let’s consider him free time and appreciate his masterful use of words. Sigh.

Cliff Buchler.

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