It was prophets of doom, a meeting so bad it was good. A conference call from beyond the space-time continuum, where the fabric of reality was woven into a never-ending loop of pointless discussion and PowerPoint presentations.
They say it was the day the meeting that time forgot, where the participants forgot their names, their purpose, and their pants. The meeting that time forgot, where the only thing that mattered was the free donuts in the break room.
Some say it was the meeting that time forgot, where the only thing that moved was the clock on the wall, which read "Time's up, time's up, TIME'S UP!"