The Lone Ranger's Rant
There are people who love committees. It started when they entered school and then served in some capacity. They washed boards, walked notes down to the principal's office, carried the attendance sheets ( before the internet made that a task no longer necessary) to the office.
Later on they yearned to be the class representative and ran their first campaign. Still later they ran for president of the school council—corralled friends into making posters, handed out free lollypops with tags asking for a vote. They learned to run a meeting, set an agenda, take meeting notes. All this —a preparation for more committees, elected or selected.
Nothing makes their hearts beat faster than heading up a large committee or being part of several committees. Seated in a circle, or around a table discussing what should be done or what needs to be started or how to proceed excites the very marrow in their bones.
I am not one of those people. If, by mistake, I am on a committee I tend to doodle or let my mind wander to someplace far away. It's always been this way. I never liked when the leader or head of the group said, "We're going to break up into small groups and discuss..." I know that after the small group discussion the leader can't leave it alone, no. "Now," they say ,"what did your group say about the question or the idea or the...?"
Almost as bad are the sheets of paper on easels or posted around a room. These innocuous innocent looking pieces of paper collect the thoughts on the question asked. The leader either writes down answers on the sheet or on a chalk board. Sometimes the group is asked to move around the room and write on the paper.
Either way the responses become a jumping off point for yet another discussion—which as I have explained those born committee junkies love. It's in their blood—in their DNA.
They have a compunction to volunteer for task forces that are generated by the committees. They love to create mini-committees, multiply lists, and utilize technology to keep their collection of agendas and meetings and ideas.
If you, like myself, find committees and task forces onerous you might be dubbed a Lone Ranger. Lone Rangers go about the task without propagating small groups, or paper trails. They tend to work alone or with another person and they eschew chairs in circles. They wear, if not externally—at least internally— a sign that says, Question Authority.
If and when a Lone Ranger ends up on a committee—they look astounded and then they start to think of how to either quietly fade into the background or need to use the bathroom or get a drink when small groups are formed.
They spend some time in a mode of rebellion.Their defiance doesn't lead to outright insurrection, save what they conjure up in the stillness of the ride home after the meeting.
Maybe they are the people who release their revolt by adopting the anonymous line
"A camel is a horse designed/planned by a committee."
Later on they yearned to be the class representative and ran their first campaign. Still later they ran for president of the school council—corralled friends into making posters, handed out free lollypops with tags asking for a vote. They learned to run a meeting, set an agenda, take meeting notes. All this —a preparation for more committees, elected or selected.
Nothing makes their hearts beat faster than heading up a large committee or being part of several committees. Seated in a circle, or around a table discussing what should be done or what needs to be started or how to proceed excites the very marrow in their bones.
I am not one of those people. If, by mistake, I am on a committee I tend to doodle or let my mind wander to someplace far away. It's always been this way. I never liked when the leader or head of the group said, "We're going to break up into small groups and discuss..." I know that after the small group discussion the leader can't leave it alone, no. "Now," they say ,"what did your group say about the question or the idea or the...?"
Almost as bad are the sheets of paper on easels or posted around a room. These innocuous innocent looking pieces of paper collect the thoughts on the question asked. The leader either writes down answers on the sheet or on a chalk board. Sometimes the group is asked to move around the room and write on the paper.
Either way the responses become a jumping off point for yet another discussion—which as I have explained those born committee junkies love. It's in their blood—in their DNA.
They have a compunction to volunteer for task forces that are generated by the committees. They love to create mini-committees, multiply lists, and utilize technology to keep their collection of agendas and meetings and ideas.
If you, like myself, find committees and task forces onerous you might be dubbed a Lone Ranger. Lone Rangers go about the task without propagating small groups, or paper trails. They tend to work alone or with another person and they eschew chairs in circles. They wear, if not externally—at least internally— a sign that says, Question Authority.
If and when a Lone Ranger ends up on a committee—they look astounded and then they start to think of how to either quietly fade into the background or need to use the bathroom or get a drink when small groups are formed.
They spend some time in a mode of rebellion.Their defiance doesn't lead to outright insurrection, save what they conjure up in the stillness of the ride home after the meeting.
Maybe they are the people who release their revolt by adopting the anonymous line
"A camel is a horse designed/planned by a committee."
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