I read an interesting statistic in early April claiming that white collar workers are now spending 250% more time in meetings than they were pre-pandemic. As I remember it, just about all my white collar jobs involved meetings for at least half my time. Let’s see: half my time times 250% (0.50 * 2.5 = 1.25) equals 125% of my time! Since most meetings seem to involve planning future meetings and the typical pre-pandemic white collar work day was about 10 hours, that means they’re now spending 12.5 hours talking about talking! Who is doing all the work?
Reading this statistic and doing the above math prompted a quick and unplanned reaffirmation of our decision to leave the white collar life behind and throw ourselves into farming. It was a timely reminder as coming off of this last winter has been a bit rough. Farm money spends much more easily than it makes, my knees and elbows haven’t stopped hurting since July, and the weather never cooperates. Last week we had 13 sunny days and 17 rainstorms, plus two hailstorms with near whiteout conditions. We received over 2 inches of rain in less than 24 hours, which means 5 acres of Christmas Lake are back just in time for Easter. And then today, this happened:
Over 4 inches of snow on April 11, 2022
Ah, but the view! Fresh air! And the Food. Is. Amazing.
Still, I feel for the 250% meeting minions. Just this morning I had about 6 meetings before breakfast. First, there was the meeting with Buster where I had to explain to him (same as I do every day) that it’s important for him to go outside before I start all my other meetings so there are no accidents while I’m gone. As usual this meeting ended with him explaining why it’s important for me to fix him breakfast after he goes outside so he doesn’t have to wait (and bark non-stop) while I go to all my other pre-coffee meetings. Then I had to meet with the new guys, who complained loudly (“baaaa-ah-ah-ah!”) about wanting to eat all the lush bloaty clover in the north pasture. I know they miss their momma and that warm cozy breeder’s barn, but I explained that it’s time for them to put on their wooly big boy pants and eat hay for breakfast like the grownups. Next I met with the laying teams, which have been expanding rapidly due to increased demand for their services. Our diversity and inclusion program has benefitted them quite well and promises to improve their winter productivity and predator resilience programs. Time will tell. They were fussy at the start of the meeting but ran out of things to talk about as soon as they got paid. Our Co-Manager (“Chickie Mama Farley”) joined me for the quacker meetings, which were disjointed as usual –– we say do this, and they do something else, but it tends to sort out well by day’s end so we left them to their work and didn’t bother keeping minutes. And finally, I had two separate cobra chicken meetings –– a one-on-one with the broody goose that needed to be reminded of the “get off your nest and eat once a day” requirement (it’s her first time, she’s very dedicated), followed by a quick check-in with her peers in Bird Yard security, whose general philosophy is “Everyone is evil so make lots of noise and bite them if you can get away with it”. Despite all the hostility they project, deep down they really just want to feel understood, which is why I wear orange gloves, hold my arm out at their level like a goose head, and murmur my best baby goose impressions. It makes me look silly but they buy it, I don’t get bit, and the meeting ends with everyone happy.
Typical homeland security meeting.
Hmmmm... Other than the pay, how much has really changed?
In my white collar days, near a building I worked in, there was a field with a low spot that would fill up with water and ducks in winter. I would stand under a nearby overpass and watch them in the rain when I could, before having to go back to my meetings. After a couple of years an office building was erected there and no more ducks. Then there was a green field of similar circumstances by the BART station where I started my daily commute. Winter water brought ducks and I could get a little nature boost before 75 minutes of commuting followed by a day filled with conversations about meetings. That spot is now home to a parking garage. As I write this, I pause to zoom in on six Canada Geese that have joined the Mallards and Teal in our flooded south pasture. I don’t know what they’re up to (they have not scheduled any meetings with me) but they seem to be acting with authority. The ducks give them space. As I sit back down, a Great Blue Heron (and he really is great!) flies over the scene and the sun starts to peak out and bounce off the wind-rippled surface of the water. Two dogs sleep soundly on the couch, a third is stretched out on her side but with eyes wide open and nose pointed out the picture window. I think about warming up my coffee and starting a To-Do list for the day. Chickie Mama walks by and I call her over to check out the geese, but she declines –– she has a farmer’s market meeting and is running late.