How Not To Persuade

It’s all very well to focus on the sunny side of things, but only after I’ve achieved enlightenment and am able to see the sunny side of airline delays, automated call menus, major dental work, back pain, age, death, decay, bunions, workmen who never call you back, and the entropy of the universe — only then will I be enlightened enough to see the sunny side of meetings.

The particular meetings in question are held at 8:30 a.m. on alternate Mondays. Show me someone who says, “I hope I can go to work early this coming Monday and start the week out right with a meeting!” Show me that person and I will bop them in the nose. Which will mean I will have bopped my dean in the nose, which is probably not a good idea, but with the entropy of the universe proceeding apace (accelerated by the glut of meetings), heck, what’s to lose?

I’m the director of an itty-bitty program here at Underfunded University, but no program is too itty-bitty to be off the radar of meetings. There are meetings for the heads of departments and programs every other week, as I’ve said, at the cheery hour of 8:30 a.m. I asked others who attend these meetings if I should go. Was I missing anything? “Heck no!” they said. “Don’t let yourself get sucked into these meetings!” They said that these meetings mostly concerned budget issues and hiring faculty. My program is too itty-bitty to have a budget, much less any of its own faculty. Mostly what we do is put together a schedule of courses people are already teaching for other departments. And advise students. I certainly advise a ton of students. These meetings are not about advising students. There’s a whole separate set of meetings for that.

I’ve been director of my itty-bitty program for a while, and my term is expiring. So the dean calls me in to ask me who’s going to direct the program next. I reply that a poll of participants revealed that no one else wants to, and I’ll be happy to take on another round.

He says, “You haven’t been coming to the department heads meetings. It is essential to come to the department heads meetings.”

I say, “I’ve been told that the meetings concern budget and faculty hiring. Since we don’t have a budget and don’t hire faculty, I’m not sure I see the benefit to us.”

The dean says, “It’s not about benefit. It’s about service.”

This is how not to motivate someone to do something.

He says, “I was head of [X] Department for five years. I was relieved when I could step down, let me tell you. You have to give your time. That’s what you do. It’s about service.”

You have to give your time when there’s absolutely no point to it? I suppose the point he has in mind is that it looks like insubordination to his higher-ups when the director of a rinky-dink program like mine doesn’t even show up and pay obeisance? Oops, I may be getting a bit snarky here. But seriously: What other point could there be? If there is one, he failed to explain it to me. The directorship is just marginally do-able as it is — just marginally. Fifteen early meetings a year on top of the load makes it a bad deal. I write an hour and a half per day. That uses up all my writing time for fifteen days. No thanks.

Later I talked to a colleague who does attends the meeting. Her department actually has a budget and hires faculty, but she said the meetings are still a colossal waste of time. However, she did point out that the dean’s office supplies free doughnuts. This briefly made me wonder whether I should STFU and agree to go to the meetings.

But honestly? It’s about service? Service in what cause? This dean could serve as an official demotivator and waster of time. They should hire him to hold meetings with enemy nations. He could bureaucrat them to death. He could demand pointless meetings until they laid down their weapons and ran.

So I’m giving up the directorship. And writing. And buying my own doughnuts.