All Tomorrow's Parties

"And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties"
—The Velvet Underground, "All Tomorrow's Parties"

Mark,

Every day the question is what costume shall I wear? Which version of myself
I'm performing in each meeting. The patient coach. The decisive leader. The
careful listener. The face that protects my team from organizational churn. The
shield that absorbs stakeholder frustration so they don't have to. The
competent leader whose team will deliver on time, even though the project is a
mess.

I never get to just show up as myself.

The Medium of Managerial Work

Andy Grove wrote that "Managerial work can only occur during face-to-face encounters, and therefore only during meetings. Thus... a meeting is nothing less than the medium through which managerial work is performed."

He wrote that in 1983, before Zoom, before Slack, before the async movement tried to save us from calendar hell. It's 2026, and we only need to change "face-to-face" to "person-to-person". Whether I'm in a conference room, on a video call, or doing real-time back-and-forth in Slack, the work happens through interaction. Not isolation or deep focus. Interaction.

Last week I wrote about futzing around building the rocket of psychological safety. That work only happens in meetings.

What Happens in Meetings

Grove breaks down meeting types: one-on-ones, staff meetings, operation reviews. That's his language from 1983. In 2026, I don't have staff—I lead a team. Each meeting type serves a different purpose. Each requires a different performance.

One-on-ones are mutual teaching. I'm coaching them—helping someone learn to set their own boundaries instead of burning out, walking through how to frame a technical tradeoff so stakeholders understand it, pushing them to see they already know the answer. But they're also teaching me—what's actually happening on the ground, where the friction is, what I'm missing from my vantage point. The information flows both ways. I need them to tell me what I can't see. They need me to help them navigate what they're experiencing. It only works if both of us show up ready to be honest.

Team meetings are where I'm Tim Yohannan from 924 Gilman—facilitating them working the issues. My job isn't to solve the problems, it's to set and enforce the boundaries. Keep the discussion on track, make sure the quiet voices get heard, notice when we're circling and cut to the decision. I enable. I observe. I expedite. I often ask the obvious questions, I rarely have the correct answer. I watch for who's being talked over, who's disengaging, who's got something to say but won't speak up. The content matters, for me the dynamics matter more.

Stakeholder meetings are where I'm the face of the team. I translate their process into something the company can understand. I manage expectations. I protect their time. I absorb the frustrations when something slips so they can stay focused. I'm the buffer, the translator, the diplomat. The team doesn't see the pressure I'm deflecting. If they saw it, I've failed at the job.

Grove calculated the dollar cost of meetings—maybe $100 per hour per manager in his era, more now with inflation. But there's also an energy cost. Every meeting requires me to be "on", wearing a specific costume. Leader. Observer. Expediter. Questioner. Decider. Responsible party. I switch between them constantly, and each switch drains a little more.

The Exhaustion

Meetings are exhausting. Period. For everyone.

But there's a specific exhaustion that comes from being the person who can't afford to be off. I can't tune out when the discussion drags. I can't check my phone when someone's venting about something I can't fix. I can't let my frustration show when a stakeholder asks for the impossible. I'm always performing—not in the sense of being fake, but in the sense of being intentional about every word, every reaction, every silence.

The energy cost is harder to quantify than the dollar cost. What's the price tag for being "on" for six to eight hours straight? To switch roles between meetings without a break? To lead, observe, absorb, deflect, and decide all day every day.

I also feel isolated, not from lack of people. I'm in person-to-person encounters all day. The isolation is from the costumes. I don't share the burden with my team—I'm their shield. I don't share my frustrations with stakeholders—I'm the team's face. I'm never just myself. I'm always in costume. Always aware of who this particular interaction needs me to be.

At the end of the day, there's no tangible output. I don't ship code. I don't take credit. I enable other people to deserve the credit. The work is invisible. The outcome is other people succeeding. All tomorrow's parties are already set. The exhaustion is already planned.

Building is Exhausting

Last week we talked about building the rocket ship, doing the work to get to psychological safety, group cohesion, and team performance. That work is exhausting, and I don't know how to change that. The work is what it is. The cost is what it is. I'm building my endurance for it, but I don't have an answer on how to make it sustainable. I just know the costs.

Thursday's Child is Sunday's Clown. Thursday's Child has far to go. I'm not sure if I am Thursday's Child. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.