The Longest-Tenured Contributor to Nothing

A case study in how to survive forever without ever doing anything.

Every office has one.

They sit near the edge of the table during meetings, halfway between the snack tray and irrelevance, clutching a leather portfolio that hasn’t seen paper since 2006. When they speak, which they always do, it’s to offer critical insight like:

“Have we checked whether this aligns with subsection 4.2.1.3(c)(iv) of the 2011 Operations Manual?”

No one has. No one ever will. Because no one knows what that subsection says, and no one cares. Least of all the person quoting it, who just enjoys the warm buzz of syllables that sound like work.

This person has been at the company longer than the carpet. Their business card is printed in a font that’s been discontinued. Their last documented deliverable is a “strategic framework” from the Bush administration. Which Bush, no one is quite sure.

But they’ve mastered the art of appearing essential. They ask clarifying questions that clarify nothing. They suggest follow-ups that never happen. They express “concerns about process” the moment anything threatens to become efficient.

You’ll notice they never actually say no to anything. They just raise “flagging items for further consideration,” which is a slower, more passive-aggressive way to say no.

If you made them sell their skills on the open market, they’d be arrested for false advertising. You couldn’t trade them for a working stapler. But inside the organization, they are somehow seen as “institutional knowledge.” Which is a polite way of saying “we don’t know what they do, but if we move them, something might break.”

Nothing will break. They are the IKEA decorative Allen wrench of your company. Kept out of habit. Used for nothing.

And yet, they are oddly powerful. Because they are always present, always speaking, and always managing to make you second-guess yourself by reminding you of a procedure last referenced during Obama’s first term.

We all know it. We’ve all sat in that meeting. Some of us have even momentarily become this person after one too many budget reviews.

You know the type.

They slow down every meeting.

They derail every initiative.

They are the human equivalent of buffering.

And they will be here long after the rest of us are gone.