Do you Zoom? Learning the pros and pitfalls of a new tech tool
Do you Zoom?
No, not careening your vehicle around others in the parking lot. Or goofyfooting your skateboard between unsuspecting sidewalk-ers. Or terrorizing other shoppers with your grocery cart.
Those were possible visions of zooming before 2012, when Eric Yuan renamed his fledgling technology company Zoom Video Communications.
And thus the English language morphed.
What is Zoom?
Zooming uses a cloud-based, peer-to-peer platform so we can sit and chat for several hours via computer or phone, frequently enduring yet another interminable meeting run amok.
To Zoom, participants sign in to converse with others they can see and hear in what looks on the screen like a modern version of “Hollywood Squares” gone bonkers.
It’s like having 27 eagle-eyed high-school teachers watching you like hawks throughout a desperately dull lecture — on which there will be a snap quiz in 15 minutes.
Side-effects of Zooming
Want to Zoom into a meeting? Unless you’re absolutely fascinated by the topics — don’t laugh, it can happen! — you could spend nearly all your time trying in vain to:
1) Stay awake. Concentrate!
2) LOOK awake. After all, everybody can see your face full frame throughout the entire meeting.
3) Sit still for three hours. No fidgeting allowed, because … you got it … everybody can see you do it. If you must fidget, then twiddle your thumbs under the desk. But keep those shoulders still!
4) Frantically ignore that nature is calling and your own private restroom is … right … over … there. And you can’t head for it without getting caught.
5) Disregard your 2-year-old bobbing in and out of the frame. It’s equally distracting if the 2-year-old in question is human, canine or that out-of-style jacket hanging just outside camera range but occasionally blowing into the picture courtesy of the fan running on high because the air in your tiny office gets stale after you’ve been sitting like a statue for a couple of hours.
Digital Zooming used to be the turf of techno giants. Now that the coronavirus pandemic has made in-person sessions an endangered species, lots of us are gratefully using the platform’s online chat services and videotelephony (say that three times fast).
We happily gather with far-flung family, have a doctor’s appointment from the comfort of home, attend a wedding, listen to live music in our stylin’ jams or participate in something we might not have been brave enough to try away from home, like open mic night or karaoke.
Zoom we must
For some of us, however, Zooming isn’t optional.
I vividly remember the first time I Zoomed into a meeting — although to be truthful, it was more like stagger, stroll and punt.
It took some serious some jiggling and juggling to figure out the program (off camera, thank goodness). Finally, I signed in, signed on, supplicated myself before the Great God Zoom and was allowed to join the party.
Except I’d forgotten two things: I don’t have a microphone for my computer. And the camera on it doesn’t work.
I could see and hear everybody else, but I was playing concealed, except for my name in bold type on the blank square where my face should have shown up.
Virtual anonymity’s not half bad.
When I Zoom covertly, I don’t have to dress for corporate. I can leave the room briefly. I can put my bare feet up or even exercise.
I don’t have to tidy up my office or fret about my backdrop. I can deal privately with a case of hiccups or a sneezing fit. I can munch on a sandwich or sip my tea. And I don’t have to wear makeup. Zooming concealed is like wearing a cyber mask.
I think computer geeks call Zooming semi-incognito “lurking.” I rather liked it.
Until the other day.
The other Zoomers knew I was there, commenting “but we can’t see her, and she’s not saying anything.”
I listened to their discussion, took lots of notes … and then the phone rang. Don’t you just love caller ID?
I had been trying for days to contact that fella via every means from phone and email to carrier pigeon and village drums. And, finally, he was calling me back!
I muted and minimized Zoom, then opened my note-taking file for the quick interview.
Then I Zoomed back into the meeting. Or at least I tried.
I could see everybody but couldn’t hear them. The sound icon didn’t indicate that the conversation was muted. Hmmm.
I closed the program, and tried again.
Four times.
Didn’t work.
Welllllll, fudge!
I guess Zoom’s like any technology. It’s wonderful … when it works.
