Always on Zoom

He's been on nine calls today. He's shipped nothing.

That's the story of this song — not told as tragedy, more like a slow-motion Tuesday. The man at the center of it joins every meeting slightly late, nods through slide decks he didn't read, says "circling back" and "I'll take that offline" in the way other people say amen, and clicks "End Call for Everyone" right before anyone asks him anything real. His calendar looks like a city at night seen from a plane: every block lit up, every hour committed, no empty space. And yet his output folder has one thing in it — a shortcut to a folder that also has nothing in it.

The dread the song lives in isn't loud. It's the kind that sits under a smooth professional surface the same way a low Rhodes chord sits under reverb guitar — you feel it before you name it. He knows. He's been on this "Alignment Check-In (Recurring)" every Thursday since Q2 of a year he can't remember anymore. He still doesn't know what they're aligning. The meeting notes always say the same thing: No action items captured. He reads it aloud in the bridge like someone reading their own eulogy in a totally normal voice, and then his voice breaks just slightly, and then he collects himself, and then the chorus comes back like it was never gone.

[Verse 1] Six-fifteen, the calendar fills itself again Back-to-back alignment checks 'til ten Camera on, brain somewhere downstream Nodding like I understand what all the numbers mean "Can everyone see my screen?" — I say it every day Nobody answers, and I am okay Status: in a meeting, has been since dawn The box says "connecting" and I'm just holding on

[Pre-Chorus] Before I hit "End Call for Everyone" Does anyone remember that I'm here? One more slide, one more "circling back" The cursor blinks — I disappear

[Chorus] This meeting could have been an email Attendees: fourteen, required: none I have a hard stop at three And I will have done nothing when it comes "Jumping off now — great call everyone" This meeting could have been an email

[Verse 2] After lunch the afternoon loops around Someone asks me to share my screen — I don't know what I've found Output folder empty, name on nothing shipped "Let me put some eyes on it" — a little something slipped "I'll take that offline" — I've been offline for years But I show up on video, and nobody hears "Please share your camera" — okay, here I am A face behind a lag, a man inside a diagram

[Pre-Chorus] Before I hit "End Call for Everyone" Does anyone remember that I'm here? "Alignment check-in, recurring, Thursday noon" The invite's sent to no one — it'll all be fine, I fear

[Bridge] (half-spoken, sparse Rhodes, voice quietly breaks) Meeting notes: No action items captured. No action items captured. Attendees: fourteen. Required: zero. "Does anyone have any questions?" ... "Great."

[Chorus] This meeting could have been an email Attendees: fourteen, required: none I have a hard stop at three And I will have done nothing when it comes "Jumping off now — great call everyone" This meeting could have been an email

[Chorus] This meeting could have been an email All these rooms I'll never leave I'll take that offline, I'll circle back I'll put some eyes on it, eventually "You're on mute" — I know, I know I am This meeting could have been an email

[Outro] (Rhodes fades, voice barely above breath) Connecting… Connecting… Connecting…

Always on Zoom is entirely fictional. The character — the Middle Manager Always on Zoom — is drawn from the channel's internal office-role archetype pool. No real individual, private data, external reporting, or identifiable third-party material of any kind was used in the creation of this song. All workplace phrases embedded in the lyrics ("This meeting could have been an email," "No action items captured," "Attendees: 14. Required: 0," etc.) are generic office-culture verbatim in wide circulation, not sourced from any specific person's communications. This is purely original creative work produced from an internal character brief.