Meetings. The bane of our existence.
Too many, too long, too pointless. But we keep coming back for more.
You know, like Sisyphus, we push the boulder up the mountain, only to watch it roll back down again.
Meetings: the never-ending labor of love.
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Meetings are like that one relative you love to hate.
Like, you know, your great aunt Mabel, always calling you for "just a little chat" that turns into an hour-long discussion on the intricacies of 19th-century agriculture.
Meetings: the never-ending labor of love... for gossiping with your great aunt Mabel.
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