It was 9:00 a.m. on a Tuesday when the meeting began, and by all accounts, it seemed like any other staff meeting. You know, the kind with an agenda that could’ve been an email, where half the room was secretly texting under the table, and the other half staring blankly at a PowerPoint no one asked for.
“Let’s circle back to last quarter’s performance review,” Greg from Finance droned, flipping to a slide that had more pie charts than any sane person should have to endure.
Hannah glanced at the clock. 9:02 a.m. She sighed. Already two minutes into corporate hell. At least she had coffee.
The meeting rolled on, and on. People nodded solemnly, occasionally chiming in with the best of the best worn out phrases like: “Let’s take this offline,” or “We need more synergy here.” Half of it was noise, a language so uniquely office-speak that Hannah often wondered if the rest of her team had secretly been trained to communicate in nothing but jargon.
An hour passed. Hannah’s mind wandered. She wondered what she would have for lunch. Maybe sushi? Or that new salad place across the street. And why had it taken her so long to call that recruiter back? Sure she had a cushy job here, but there had to be more to life than weekly staff meetings where nothing but the planning of the next meeting was ever accomplished. 10:30 a.m. came and went. The coffee ran dry. If and when she made it out of here, she promised herself she'd call that recruiter back.
“We’re going to need to streamline these processes,” someone mumbled, probably Karen from HR. Karen loved streamlining processes. Why couldn’t she streamline these meetings? But the more Hannah listened, the more she noticed something odd. They had already discussed streamlining processes. Twice. Hadn't they?
“Let’s table that for now,” Greg said, for what felt like the hundredth time. He switched to a slide labeled "Opportunities for Improvement" that looked suspiciously identical to one from last week.
Hannah looked at the clock again. 10:31 a.m.
Her stomach dropped. There was no way. She’d been sitting in this meeting for what felt like hours, maybe, days and yet, only a minute had passed?
She glanced around the room. No one else seemed alarmed. Mark was doodling in his notepad. Susan was typing furiously on her laptop, probably “taking notes” (but more likely working on her Etsy shop). How were they not noticing?
The agenda dragged on. An 11:45 a.m. Lunch seemed like a distant memory now. And yet, as she glanced back at the clock, it blinked 10:32 a.m.
That’s when Hannah realized it: time was not moving. Or, it was moving, but not in the right way. Her coffee had gone cold, and Greg was still droning on about performance metrics like he had just started talking. The same pie chart- happy slide was back up mocking her. Everyone else seemed content to continue the charade, oblivious to the time loop they had apparently fallen into.
Finally, another PowerPoint slide appeared. "Key Takeaways." Hadn't they already been through this? "Opportunities for Improvement" would be next. Her eyes darted to the door. Could she just… leave?
Before she could stand, Greg’s voice boomed across the room: “I think we’ll need to extend this discussion into the next hour. We’re making progress, but I want to make sure we really drill down into the data here.”
Everyone nodded without looking up from their preoccupations, except Hannah. She was sure her brain was about to implode. PROGRESS? They hadn’t made any progress since last week. If time hadn’t stopped, she would swear they’d been in this room for weeks.
She reached for her phone. No signal. And now the Wi-Fi was down too. Of course it was. Someone’s sick idea of a joke. She hoped.
“I have a question!” she blurted out. All heads turned toward her.
Greg smiled half-heartedly. “Yes, Hannah?”
“How… long have we been in this meeting?”
Mark snorted. “Come on Hannah, it’s only been an hour or so.”
“No.” She shook her head, panic creeping into her voice. “It’s been days. Maybe weeks. Have none of you noticed the clock isn’t moving?”
The others exchanged confused glances. Karen from HR furrowed her brow. “Hannah, maybe you need a break. It’s only…” She glanced at her watch. Then back at the wall clock. Then back at her watch. “Huh.”
Hannah leaned forward and pointed to Karen. “Exactly.”
Susan from Marketing finally broke her typing trance, glancing at the same clock before adding her two cents as though she’d been intently listening the whole time. “Didn’t we already cover all of this? The key takeaways? The process streamlining?”
Everyone was silent for a moment. The realization hit the room like a cold breeze.
Greg, unbothered, cleared his throat. “Well, it’s important that we—"
“No, Greg,” Hannah interrupted. “It’s not. What’s important here is that we've landed in some sort of corporate purgatory. Trapped. In this meeting. Forever. Is this your doing?”
The room sat in stunned silence intently watching the only person currently standing. Greg frowned, looking slightly perturbed for the first time since the meeting began. “I think you’re being a bit dramatic. Let’s just refocus on the action items -”
“No!” Mark stood up, his chair scraping across the floor. “She’s right! This is some kind of cruel joke. We’re trapped. I’ve been discussing action items since my second day on the job and refuse to discuss any more today, tomorrow and for the rest of eternity!”
Panic started to ripple through the group. Susan slammed her laptop shut. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Karen from HR, typically the voice of reason, looked pale. “But… I have meetings after this one. I can’t miss those.”
Hannah stood, feeling a strange mix of triumph and dread. “There are no other meetings, Karen. This is the only meeting. And it’s looking like it’s going to last forever.”
I knew I was starting to sound fatalistic and ready to give up all hope. I assumed it was just my hunger. Or the fact that I’d watched Groundhog Day again last night. It had been February 2nd afterall. Naturally it was what one was supposed to do.
Greg, looking affronted, crossed his arms. “You’re overreacting. Meetings are a fundamental part of corporate life. Let’s just take five, and regroup -”
“No, Greg. We will not take five! We will not regroup!” Hannah snapped realizing this could be the end of her time here assuming there was a corporation outside of this meeting. “I’m leaving.” She stormed toward the door.
She reached for the handle and felt a cold chill run down her spine. The knob wouldn’t turn. She yanked it harder, but it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked.
Mark tried next, but to no avail. Susan threw herself against it, but the door stood firm, as if mocking their efforts.
Greg sighed, adjusted his tie and clearing his throat. “Well, looks like we’ll have to add ‘exit strategy’ to the agenda for next week.”
Hannah slumped into her chair, defeated.
The fluorescent lights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a printer droned on, as though mocking them with the promise of reports outside this room that would never be read.
And as the clock finally clicked over to 10:33 a.m., they must have collectively realized the terrible truth: the meeting would never end. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.