After this, please no more Zoom

We both agreed at the end of our Zoom call that soon we hoped to be able to never do a Zoom call again.

It seemed strange, two people seemingly saying they could not stand the sight of each other, but that’s not what we meant. We want to meet in person and, failing that, we will use that old-fashioned device called the phone – remember, the one that was common before every single encounter, in the business world at least, had to be via Zoom.

I can just about recall when we actually met, instead of those so-called meetings with people sitting in little rectangles. There’s no eye contact any more, no close-up observation of a tell-tale twitch in someone’s mouth. You’re not near enough to see if those lines are laughing or frowning.

On many occasions you can barely make them out at all – so blurry is the image. Then, there are the backdrops. Spare me the backdrops.

I’ve had the guy dressed in a shirt and tie against the living room from The Simpsons. To make it worse, he kept zooming in and out. One moment his head was tiny, on the famous sofa; the next it filled the room. Then, he would also move to the side, so he was a small figure in the corner.

There was the chap who ahead of our regular call liked to change the painting behind him. He was fond of the portrait of himself wearing a jumper and he would sit wearing the very same jumper so it looked as though you were seeing double. Ha ha.

This week, there was the bloke sitting in front of a vivid starry galaxy picture – it made him appear like a wizard or an astrologer. Weirder still as we discussed his global strategies and plans.

Yes, I saw the woman with the Kama Sutra strategically placed, second book down, in the pile over her right shoulder, and I also witnessed the female politician with a dildo on the book shelf.

For much of lockdown, people were serious and treating the screen as if they were in the office. But, as time has gone on, a certain craziness has taken hold.

One of the more disturbing Zooms was the man who came on our group call with a disgusting object in the background. It turned out his wife is a birthing counsellor and the red “thing” was a plastic placenta.

I’m now thoroughly fed up with artfully arranged book cases – I swear some of them aren’t real, like that wallpaper of book bindings. Is there a site you can visit to download them? Does he really read that much, who knew?

There’s an agency boss I’ve been on calls with who likes to sit in what must be his conservatory, surrounded by giant green, tropical leaves. Surreal.

As for the clothes, I’ve seen the scraggy rag of a T-shirt with holes in and the daft slogans (would you ever consider wearing that in the office, so why now?). Black polos (like Steve Jobs, who are you kidding) and Ralph Lauren polos are so common for many male executives they must have sold out online.

People’s behaviours have changed. So now babies, dogs, cats on laps are regarded as normal. What’s especially peculiar and in some way unforgivable are those who still insist on moving the laptop around and can’t make the camera function properly. If that’s not bad enough, their audio keeps fading. Guys, we’ve been like this for nearly 11 months, surely you can get it right by now!

There are those who disappear completely. One person was on a call, then there was a noise in the background. She got up and left, and didn’t return for what appeared like an age. She said she was answering a knock at the door. Like you would, in a formal management meeting, just get up and leave, without any explanation.

Life has taken on a disturbing aspect. A friend who works in the City told me how he’d just come off a Zoom staff appraisal meeting. For the last part the woman being appraised was teary. Meanwhile he was stuck and could not do the decent thing and offer her a sympathetic tissue or cup of tea. Neither did he feel comfortable ending the meeting – just casually switching her off. There’s no walk to the door on Zoom, no friendly farewell nod, no loitering in the corridor afterwards. It’s mechanical; there one moment, gone the next.

Standards have definitely slipped. I’ve had to watch as people have eaten entire meals, in the middle of the morning or afternoon. There are some who have a plate at the side and take quick bites, thinking no one can see what they’re doing. Er, the steam and the chewing and then the talking with your mouth full - they’re good indicators.

The other day, I spotted someone with what seemed like a surreptitious glass of wine, at 11.30am. I’ve also noticed the odd full ash tray. I’m still waiting for someone to light up or even puff on a joint during a meeting. If we stay in this hell much longer they will come, I swear.

What I’m finding is that we’re all fed up with it. Zoom is no substitute for the real thing and, more to the point, it can’t provide all the other stuff that goes with seeing people in person – the chat and gossip and, yes, the banter, and heading off to a bar afterwards. We all want it back.

Please God, no more Zoom.