The Modern American Folklore: A Legend of Conference Room 3 – by G.E. Wulff

We meet here today not because our calendar alerted us to the meeting, but to plan our meeting for the remembrance and commemoration of this room.

The products or services we provide can make company history, but the real history lies within the hallowed walls of Conference Room 3.

Heroes are not filtered through a hiring algorithm. Heroes are made by their ability to rise above and face circumstances fate casts before them.

We are here to remember one such person and the events of Conference Room 3. A hero we may never see again in our lifetimes walked the halls of our company. We don’t know where he came from; we lost all HR records in the great water cooler flood of 2014. We lost our meeting minutes during the potluck battle of 2015 and the Lysol-Clorox annexation of 2016. Some say he never existed. Yet, we still follow his brave actions to this day.

The lone manager arrived early to the scheduled meeting in Conference Room 3. This meeting was like any other; a meeting to plan for a meeting later in the day that was a planning meeting for the meeting the next day to discuss a meeting for the end of the week.

People meandered into the room or dialed in late. The blank faces and unmuted phones filled this space we dedicate today. As folklore tells it, the meeting started like all others, with 15 minutes of separate chatter until a stillness filled the room. It was as if fate issued portents of what was to occur.

The lone manager, with bravery unmatched since the heroes of antiquity, arose with two heroic words: “no more.”

He rose to his feet, like a waking giant in the room, making eye contact with all attendees and issued his declaration. This declaration we now commit in bronze tribute of the unknown manager of Conference Room 3.

“My friends and colleagues. In the course of meeting scheduling, we have pushed the limits of human endurance beyond known bounds. We, this select few, have endured pre-meetings and meetings to discuss meetings. Pushing the limits of our abilities we say ‘no more’. Throughout our struggle, we have found the strength to endure hardships. Hardships of burned coffee, no restroom breaks, late dial-ins, and the distraction of our neighbors looking at their phones.”

“We shall bear these burdens no more. No more will we have these meaningless meetings. No more will we have to enact this meeting pageantry. My brothers and sisters of Conference Room 3, join me in our common struggle. Our struggle will be arduous, but they will know it throughout history. Those who missed this meeting will hold their heads low at our parties. They will tell their children and their children’s children, ‘these are the men and women of Conference Room 3’, hold your heads high in their presence for you may never see their kind again.”  

We dedicate this statue not because we cut our office supply budget but with hope. A hope of a future free of meaningless meetings and their legacy. This legacy will act as a beacon for the potential of our greatness, for generations hired to come.