We need to talk about meetings.
Not in a “could this be an email” way. That ship sailed and sank years ago.
This is deeper. Stranger. Slightly more existential.
Because lately, it feels like we’ve entered a new era of performative collaboration. We’re not just meeting to align anymore. We’re meeting to avoid responsibility.
You’ve felt it.
A two-hour call where everyone nods, agrees vaguely, raises one “what about” question, and then schedules another meeting.
Nothing decided. No one accountable. Just the warm illusion of progress.
We used to have meetings to make decisions. Now we have meetings instead of decisions.
The cult of consensus
Somewhere along the way, we became obsessed with agreement.
Not alignment. Not clarity. Agreement.
Everyone needs to feel included, consulted, and considered. Which sounds lovely—until you realise it’s code for “no one wants to go first.”
We delay action in the name of collaboration. We mistake endless input for rigour. We hold space, but never take space. And the result? Decision-making gets flattened into a vibe.
And nothing actually moves.
Meetings as theatre
Let’s call this what it is: workplace theatre.
The standing ovation for the person who asks, “Can we just take a step back for a second?”
The well-timed silence after someone drops a phrase like “strategic north star.”
The slide deck that looks like progress but reads like a hostage note.
There’s a specific kind of meeting that exists only to appear collaborative. It isn’t designed to solve anything. It’s there to document the process of not solving it.
It’s consensus cosplay.
It’s risk-aversion in a linen blazer.
Why are we so afraid to decide?
Because decisions have consequences. They require clarity. They demand ownership.
And in many workplaces—especially ones obsessed with being “flat,” “friendly,” or “inclusive”—clarity can feel threatening. Decisiveness gets read as arrogance. Direction gets rebranded as control.
But indecision is its own kind of power move. It protects you from being wrong. It makes everyone complicit in the stall.
If no one really decides, then no one can really be blamed.
Which might feel safe. But it’s not leadership. It’s a shrug in a blazer.
The real cost of indecision
Indecision is expensive. Not just in time, but in energy.
It drains momentum. It saps trust. It leaves good people spinning in ambiguity until they start looking for jobs with verbs in the job description.
Most teams don’t fail because of bad decisions. They fail because of no decisions.
Because everyone’s waiting for someone else to make the call. Because no one wants to be the one who names the thing, risks the no, or says, “This is what we’re doing. Here’s why.”
Decide something. Even badly.
A bad decision, made early, is almost always better than no decision at all. You can course-correct. You can learn. You can say, “We thought this would work. It didn’t. Here’s what we’re doing next.”
That’s not failure. That’s traction.
So let’s stop acting like all input is equal. Let’s stop pretending that progress is democratic. Let’s stop dragging twelve people into a room to debate a comma.
You don’t need another meeting.
You need someone willing to choose.
How to spot a fake meeting
If you’re unsure whether your next call is a real meeting or just vibes, here’s a quick checklist:
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Will a decision be made?
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Is the person with decision rights in the room?
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Is there a specific outcome—or just the word “touchpoint” in the invite?
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Could this be resolved with two Slack messages and a spine?
If the answer to most of the above is no, decline with grace.
Or better yet, offer a decision and let others weigh in.
Leadership isn’t about knowing everything. It’s about being brave enough to move.
Meet less. Decide more.
Consult where it matters. Take responsibility where it counts.
And remember: clarity is not the enemy of collaboration.
It’s the thing that makes it worth showing up in the first place.