Venting

This has nothing to do with San Francisco.

For three hours yesterday evening, I was stuck in the meeting from hell. I spent most of the time staring down at my shoes, biting my tongue, and repeating this mantra: "I will not seize control of this meeting." I didn't, but it was a huge struggle.

By the time it devolved into side conversations and aimless speculation that looped back to items discussed (and I thought settled) in the first hour, I was grinding my teeth. But I was good. Didn't say a word.

I want those three hours of my life back.