My grievances with the world of online meetings are several and bitter. The sound is tinny. The hilarity of intruding pets and children has run its course as a comedic genre. The two-dimensional camera undersells the warp and weft of my hair.
Of all the crimes of Zoom, though, much the worst is its chilling effect on interruption. To cut across someone is to risk that grim dance of confusion in which both parties talk simultaneously for a few seconds. It is the spoken equivalent of colliding pedestrians mirroring each other’s movements as they try to get past.