Meetings that start after 8 p.m. rose 16 percent in a single year.

That number comes from Microsoft, which analyzed anonymized activity across Microsoft 365 and surveyed 31,000 knowledge workers in 31 markets. Sixty percent of meetings are called on the spot. One in ten gets scheduled at the last minute.

Nobody decided this. It accumulated.

The calendar became the default answer to every organizational problem. Need a decision? Book something. Need to share news? Book something. The result is a workday with no clear edges and a workforce that measures the week by how many screens it survived.

Read a bloated calendar closely and a pattern shows up. The meetings cluster around questions nobody has authority to settle. A weekly sync that has run for two years often means two departments were never told which one owns the outcome. A status update with fourteen attendees often means no one trusts the written record. Meetings multiply in the gaps where decision rights were never assigned, and they keep multiplying because holding one feels like progress and naming a decision-maker feels like risk.

It is the same avoidance this desk has described in a larger container, where a reorganisation gets announced because a specific, uncomfortable decision was available and nobody wanted to make it. The chart changes and the choice does not.

When a company brings in Evan Unger, the presenting complaint is almost always the schedule. He says he rarely finds the problem there. What he finds instead is a group of executives who have never been told which of them is allowed to end an argument. Mr. Unger has been sitting in those rooms since 1988, first inside Merck, later running leadership development at what was then Colorado's largest hospital system, and now on behalf of corporations, health systems and school districts.

"A meeting is the most expensive room a company can create," he says. "When people leave that room unclear, the company pays for it twice, once in the meeting and again in the work that follows."

Before anyone gets an invitation, he makes the organizer answer five questions from a framework his firm calls POPRA: purpose, objectives, process, roles and agreements. Any of the five can start a fight. Roles start a particular kind. Purpose and objectives can be agreed to while everyone privately keeps their own reading of them. Roles cannot be held that loosely, because naming one gives a person the standing to close an argument and tells everyone else they no longer have it. That is where the sequence tends to stall. Groups will spend an hour building an agenda to avoid spending five minutes on the sentence that names who decides.

So the opening minutes carry the weight. Mr. Unger compares them to the first move of a chess match. "If you squander the opening," he says, "you spend the rest trying to claw back control."

The opening usually gets squandered the same way. Not through a bad agenda, but through the silence that follows the senior person's first opinion. Mr. Unger calls it the HIPPO effect, for highest-paid person's opinion. Once the HIPPO signals a preference, the room stops evaluating the idea and starts calibrating to it. The meeting runs its full hour. The objection that would have been useful surfaces weeks later, in hallways and private messages, after the work has already been built on top of it.

Those hours are expensive in a way that rarely reaches a budget line. Steven G. Rogelberg, an organizational psychologist at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, surveyed employees who reported spending 18 hours a week across 17.7 meetings while considering fewer than 12 of those hours worth attending. He estimated the resulting waste at more than $25,000 per employee per year, or roughly $101 million annually at a company of 5,000 people. It is the cost this paper has argued companies never audit, being the only large line in a payroll that nobody is asked to justify.

So cut them. That is the obvious response, and the research initially agrees.

Researchers writing in MIT Sloan Management Review studied 76 companies that had adopted no-meeting days. At firms that cut meetings by 40 percent, employees reported productivity 71 percent higher than before. Cutting 60 percent was associated with a 55 percent gain in reported cooperation and a 57 percent drop in stress.

Then the curve turns. The advantages plateau past a 60 percent reduction and decline beyond it. At companies that eliminated meetings entirely, satisfaction, productivity, engagement and cooperation all fell.

Both halves of that finding point at the same thing. Cutting meetings relieves the coordination cost, which is why the early numbers look so good. It does not answer the question that generated the meetings, which is why the gains run out. Companies that deleted their calendars still did not know who decides. What they had removed was one of the few places where disagreement had to happen in front of witnesses. Decisions scattered into direct messages, accountability got harder to trace, and people who had been overscheduled ended up isolated instead. The packed calendar and the empty one describe the same unresolved question.

Automation is starting to force that question. Software already transcribes the call, drafts the recap, assigns the follow-ups and retrieves what was said about the same subject last quarter. A meeting whose only function was moving information between heads has little left to justify it once those tasks are handled.

The recurring session that has no informational purpose is harder to explain away. A group convenes month after month because two executives disagree and neither has been given authority to settle it. On a crowded calendar, that meeting looks like every other one. On a thinned-out calendar it stands alone. Automation does not resolve it. It removes the camouflage.

The cost does not end with payroll. Decisions that never quite get made come back week after week, and the friction of carrying them is what employees eventually describe as exhaustion.

"People do not burn out from work," Mr. Unger says. "They burn out from the friction around the work, the ambiguity, the rehashing, the sense that everyone is pushing but nothing is actually moving."

The arithmetic is unforgiving. Eight people, sixty minutes. That is a full workday of payroll, committed the moment the invitation goes out, before anyone has spoken a word. Almost nobody who sends the invitation ever sees the bill.

Calendars reveal priorities more reliably than mission statements do. They show who is allowed to decide, what requires consensus and how much organizational time a company is willing to spend avoiding a choice.

"It is simple," he says. "If you want to understand the health of an organization, do not read the annual report. Watch how they run a meeting."

The findings that meetings starting after 8pm rose 16 percent in a single year, that 60 percent of meetings are called on the spot and that one in ten is scheduled at the last minute are from Microsoft's Work Trend Index analysis of anonymised Microsoft 365 activity together with a survey of 31,000 knowledge workers across 31 markets. The estimate of more than $25,000 of waste per employee a year, and about $101m annually at a company of 5,000 people, is by Steven G. Rogelberg of the University of North Carolina at Charlotte as reported by CBS News. The study of 76 companies adopting no-meeting days, including the reported 71 percent productivity gain at a 40 percent reduction and the decline where meetings were eliminated entirely, was published in MIT Sloan Management Review. The POPRA framework, the quoted remarks and the professional history described are those of Evan Unger of Teri Schwartz Associates, who was interviewed for this article. Figures drawn from surveys reflect what respondents reported rather than measured output.

Topics leadershipmeetingsmanagementproductivity

Editor-at-Large

Margaret Holloway

Margaret Holloway writes about leadership, institutions and the culture of American work. She has covered executives and the organizations they run for more than fifteen years.