It seems the biggest issue that people have with Zoom is cosmetic. They just don’t like looking at themselves.
“You see every blemish,” says Kathleen Walsh, president and CEO of YMCA of Metro North. “We’ve all had mirrors for decades, but we’ve never had to look at ourselves the way we do on Zoom.”
Exactly. Because of an issue with the camera on my computer, when my face appears on screen I look like Stewie from “Family Guy.” I hate looking at it. And yes, I know I can use the app without the camera, but it feels even less like a meeting if I’m invisible.
“You’re saying ‘gee, I need a haircut,’ or you’re fixing your hair, or you’re focused on something else,” says Charles Gaeta, executive director of the Lynn Housing Authority & Neighborhood Development (LHAND).
“Frankly,” he said, “I find it exhausting. I’m all Zoomed out. I like to get to know people. We’ve had about four hires during this pandemic, and the only way I’ve met any of them is through Zoom. I’d rather be in a room with people instead of looking at my computer screen.
“I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for kids and teachers,” he said.
But Birgitta Damon, CEO of Lynn-based Leo, Inc., can imagine it. Somewhat.
“My youngest daughter is a freshman in college,” she said. “And it was a terrible introduction to college to be learning remotely that way. Another daughter lost an internship because of it.”
We’ve heard an awful lot about COVID fatigue. Well, how about Zoom fatigue? It’s that feeling where if you attend one more Zoom meeting, you’re going to scream.
For about six months during the height of last year’s pandemic spike, we at The Item met every morning via Zoom. It was comical. Nobody ever thought to simply take attendance at these things because, in a real meeting, in real life, at a real venue, you didn’t have to. Everybody who was there was there.
But in Zoom culture, half the people attending had their cameras turned off. Or they were on “mute,” but tried to talk anyway.
Of course, the one person in our group who owned two chirping birds never muted the mic. One day, I finally asked “what are those bird noises?”
“Oh,” the person said, “Those are my birds.”
Well, I thought to myself, mute ’em!
In fact, my biggest takeaway from Zoom meetings is the inevitable “unmute yourself” when someone tries to speak.
Of course, people may turn their cameras off for other reasons — such as dressing down too much. They may look great from the waist up, but they also cop to wearing sweatpants and pajama bottoms.
“And slippers,” says Saugus Selectwoman Debra Panetta, who managed to Zoom into a special meeting of the board last week while at Disney World in Florida.
“Guilty,” says Walsh. “I would wear my sweatpants or running shorts. The more I sat, the heavier I felt. I’m used to moving all day. It wasn’t very funny.”
Damon sees Zoom’s downside, but she also sees an upside. Everybody does, actually.
“I’ll never drive 90 minutes for a meeting that lasts an hour ever again,” says Walsh.
Damon prefers meeting in person because “some things you just can’t do by Zoom. Like, today (Monday) we have a meeting on our capital campaign, our building plans. You have to be in person for that. There’s not a whole lot you can do if you’re not in person.”
However, she said, when it comes to driving out to Worcester and Oxford — which she regularly does — Zoom is a just-fine replacement for that.
“I spend four hours a day driving — two up and two back — for a meeting that may last a couple of hours,” she said. “That’s six hours of my day. And that doesn’t include all the other things I need to do. Zoom is great for something like that.”
Panetta also sees a convenience factor.
“I can’t wait until we (the selectmen) meet again in person,” Panetta said, this time texting from Florida. “However, it is convenient to be able to attend two meetings at once or back-to-back.”
Damon lends a note of caution, though.
“I put them too close together, and I find that I don’t give myself a break,” she said.
Gaeta, too, sees the advantages — while decrying Zoom in general.
“We have five different office sites,” he said. “Zoom will remain a part of the culture if you have to get your staff together in a hurry. But I think people can be more expressive in person.”
Then again, there are some things for which nothing — not even Zoom — can substitute.
This was supposed to be the year of my 50-year high school reunion, but COVID put the kibosh on that. We’ll meet next year, maybe, but will it be the same?
At St. John’s Prep, the “Golden Eagles” march in with the graduates, all decked out in wide-brimmed sun hats, blue blazers, Docker pants and striped ties. Because I wasn’t going to be able to do that, I took the occasion of the Kentucky Derby to wear “the outfit” at our small gathering.
Meanwhile, guess how we’re going to conduct our class reunion? If you guess “via Zoom,” you would be correct.