Limbo dancer

There is a limbo, like that of being through Passport Control and not technically being in the country anymore, before the commencement of a video call.

I have Zoom Professional because, and this article is an excellent example why, I am professional.  A direct consequence of this is that I invariably control the “waiting room”.  But what is the Zoom waiting room?  Is it like a real waiting room?  A selection of Woman Weeklies from the ‘60s; a tropical fish tank to make you relax before two-hours of root-canal treatment or an officious person asking loudly, “have you produced a specimen yet?”?

No, the Zoom waiting room is a parallel universe where time stands still and you have precious moments to adjust your hair; add Clearasil to your mental shopping list; take Quality Street off, even though the previous tin ostensibly evaporated over the Christmas period.

If you’re a professional Zoomster you have the power to, like the video call equivalent of being Judge Jeffries, admit who you want into the meeting – that moment before you are, yet again, suggesting your visitors’ cameras aren’t on.  There are two reasons why cameras are not on: one is that geography homework is being checked, the other is that you’ve not quite understood the concept of diuretics.

Perhaps there should be relevant messages for people returning to the call and putting their cameras back on?  They should say: “now please wash your hands” or “that’s not what an ox-bow lake looks like”.

The etiquette, therefore, for the Zoom waiting room is have a hairbrush nearby; a packet of Wet Wipes for that rogue Toffee Finger, Strawberry Delight or Fudge that’s not quite gone 100% inside your mouth and an empty Lucozade bottle – because, if it’s good enough for Sir Alex Ferguson…..

If, however, you are “waiting for your host to let you in” then, if you’re new to a Zoom call, please don’t expect your ‘host’ to greet you, take your coat, offer you a canape and introduce you to his or her neighbour who’s an actuary and has a large collection of cacti. 

And whatever you do, don’t give anyone your car-keys.