My Camera Was On for the Entire Meeting

It was the biggest call of my quarter: ninety people, three departments, the kind of meeting where you keep yourself muted and pretend to take notes. I was sure my camera was off. There was no green light that I noticed, and I had clicked the button. I had definitely clicked a button.

Confident in my invisibility, I did what anyone does on a long, boring call. I ate a sandwich in about four bites. I had a quiet but expressive conversation with my cat. I got up, off camera I assumed, and did a couple of stretches that are not designed to be seen. I picked things out of my teeth. I made several faces at the presenter that I would not want the presenter to see.

The presenter, it turns out, could see all of them. So could the other eighty-nine people, because the call was in grid view, and my little rectangle was right there in the middle, camera very much on, broadcasting my entire private variety show to the whole organization.

I only realized when a chat message from a colleague popped up, just to me, that said: "Your camera. YOUR CAMERA." I looked at my own thumbnail. There I was, mid-stretch, sandwich crumbs on my shirt, making a face at the vice president of sales.

I have never turned off a camera and then found the actual off button so fast. In the silence afterward I typed "apologies, technical issue" into the chat, which fooled absolutely no one. My cat, at least, came out of it looking great. I now unplug my webcam physically before every meeting, like a person who has learned exactly one lesson the hard way.