Peter announced that Monday’s staff meeting would last exactly twenty minutes.
He placed a large kitchen timer in the middle of the table.
“No drifting,” he said. “No unnecessary detail. When this rings, we finish.”
His team looked at the timer with the cautious hope usually reserved for a repair van arriving during a power cut.
“Also,” he added, “the new desks arrive at eleven. We’ll all need to help shift the boxes out of the storage room.”
Dan glanced at the timer.
“Will there be enough time?”
“Plenty, if everyone is concise.”
Maya closed the spreadsheet she’d prepared and folded her hands. Across the table, Dan quietly put his list of questions back on top of his notebook.
Peter asked for updates. Maya said the stock delivery had arrived. Peter asked whether it arrived on time, whether the driver had called, and whether anyone had thought to compare this week’s delivery time with last week’s. Maya answered all three questions in one sentence.
“Good,” he said. “That’s how we save time.”
The timer showed seventeen minutes.
Dan reported that the printer had been fixed. Peter asked what had been wrong. Dan said a roller. Peter explained how rollers worked. Dan said he knew; he’d helped the repair technician. Peter explained how knowing the cause could prevent a recurrence.
At eleven minutes, Peter reached his own update.
“I’ll be brief.”
Two people glanced at the timer. Peter noticed.
“You won’t need to watch that. I’ve got my eye on it.”
He began describing a conference he’d attended. There had been an excellent talk about efficiency, although the venue hadn’t been ideal. This led to the parking arrangements. The parking arrangements led to a story about the time he’d arrived late for a previous conference and found the speaker was an old school friend.
The timer showed three minutes.
Maya raised a hand. “Could you explain the main lesson from the efficiency talk?”
“Excellent question,” Peter said.
He turned his chair toward her and explained the difference between being busy and being productive. Dan asked whether the speaker had given an example. Peter said he had, but his own example was better. The timer rang halfway through it.
Everyone sat motionless.
Peter turned it off.
“Just let me finish this point.”
Nobody objected. In fact, Maya asked another question. Dan looked as though he wanted to ask one too, but the woman beside him tapped his notebook and shook her head.
Peter was delighted. For months he’d struggled to encourage participation. A simple timer had transformed the room.
He spoke for another fourteen minutes. Then he remembered an anecdote that demonstrated the importance of allowing staff to contribute. Maya asked him to repeat the name of the book he’d mentioned. Peter wrote it on the whiteboard and provided a brief account of the author’s career.
At ten past eleven, his assistant appeared in the doorway.
“Peter, the furniture people are here. They say they can’t unload until someone clears the old storage room.”
Peter looked at his watch.
“Oh, goodness. We were all going to do that at eleven.”
“Yes,” his assistant said. “You told everyone.”
A small, almost invisible adjustment passed around the table. Not relief exactly. More like a group agreeing not to smile.
Peter looked at Maya, then Dan, then the timer.
“Have you been keeping me talking?”
No one answered.
He stood and put on his jacket. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to start moving the boxes myself.”
Maya raised her hand.
Peter frowned. “What?”
“Before you go,” she said, “could you finish your point about delegation?”