With Zoom, the basic rules of conduct at meetings seems to have disappeared

There was a time when we understood punctuality, appropriate attire, time boundaries, the importance of eating with our mouths closed and stifling our yawns in public. In those days, we would endeavor to show up to meetings looking our part, whatever that might be, where we would pay attention or at least feign it. We understood that meetings were opportunities to communicate, either by speaking, listening or both, and we knew that meetings implied certain boundaries. We would obey a mix of explicit and implicit rules of conduct that were intended to make a good impression of our character and to reflect respect for the other parties involved.

In our virtual world, these notions have pretty much evaporated. Many do not seem to care how they show up, and certainly are not interested in conveying any semblance of a fine character. People join the Zoom call late, often with no apology, and leave and rejoin the virtual room at whim. There might be a vague chat notice, “Have to take a call,” which would never have been taken if the meeting was in person.

Food is devoured, often in unseemly large chunks, and washed down with beverages of all kinds, all on show for the other poor Zoom attendees. Alternatively, people abruptly disappear from their audiovisuals so as not to subject others to their mastication. In the old face-to-face world, people would hardly get up in the middle of a meeting or presentation to feed their faces.

Then there are some people who ostensibly join Zoom but never reveal their true faces. One is either left staring at their titled but blank box, or there is some smiling, vacuous photo as a substitute for the live person. Being a frequent presenter, I find this an extremely upsetting situation, with no possibility of visual rapport or recognition of one’s efforts. If someone deigns to suddenly reveal themselves, it is a short-lived relief that in no way makes up for the other vacant boxes.

Now let’s tackle attire. In the good old days, when we knew we were going to attend a meeting or listen to a talk, we would make some effort to be suitably dressed. Our hair would be clean and coifed and we would endeavor to present ourselves as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed attendees eager for the interchange.

Instead, many of those people who do show up in the virtual world, look like unmade beds — disheveled, bleary-eyed, unwashed or unkempt and often slouching on a couch as opposed to being upright and attentive in a chair. Some move around, put on coffee, feed their animals or stroke them, and clearly read their emails while the discussion is going on.

Recently, I gave a presentation to a large group of young professionals working in the healthcare industry. Unbeknownst to me, the presentation was scheduled during the participants’ lunch time. During the 90 minutes of what was designed to be an interactive discussion, not one of these so-called young professionals showed their faces. Despite trying to engage them with questions, I could not rouse their interest. Flummoxed, I appealed to the organizer, a young millennial, for advice on what I might have done differently. She and I scheduled a Zoom call to discuss the matter.

After several postponed dates, as the millennial was indisposed or caught in her car at the time of the meeting, we eventually settled on a 10 a.m. call one Friday, I signed on to the call. She signed on too, but remained behind the black box and did not reveal her face, claiming she was having a slow day and therefore was not in a suitable position to be seen. What would we have done if it were faceto-face? Would she have arrived in her bathrobe or simply canceled the meeting ... again?

She explained that presentations to millennials need to be entertaining. One needs to try to capture their specific interest by summarizing the content every few minutes and then asking them to speak about themselves, as that is what they are most drawn to. I asked her about learning. She commented that they only like to learn practical things in bite sizes.

I guess I am just not cut out for this virtual world. Give me good old-fashioned face-to-face interaction where we can at least strive to show up with character and respect.

Annabel Beerel, author of “Rethinking Leadership: A Critique of Contemporary Theories,” can be reached through annabelbeerel.com.