My small, rural town became a haven for people fleeing Covid only a hundred miles from New York City. They bought real estate for second homes or primary ones because they could work remotely. They also brought skills and resources. And they joined boards of trustees, directors, or advisers as their way of joining the community.

Although I have lived here full-time for 25 years, I have never been invited to serve on a board. If I really wanted to get on one, I know I could apply formally, drop hints, or even start attending meetings to show my interest.

But even if I were invited, I would probably decline.

Don’t get me wrong. I am, by nature, a joiner; I like meetings, and that’s what boards do — meet.

Meetings fascinate me. Being in a room with a group of people, often strangers, who are sharing a common reality, figuring things out together. Those are the good meetings.

And the bad ones? The boring ones, the tense ones, where it feels as if something else is going on that no one is saying out loud — I particularly like those. I don’t play cards or board games, but meetings are my kind of puzzle. I find myself trying to figure out what’s really happening.

I like them so much that I trained as a group psychologist and added it to my professional life, alongside documentary filmmaking.

You might be wondering, “If you’re so passionate about meetings and have a proven track record of effectively facilitating them, why would you be hesitant to join a board?“

The answer: my two careers. Most of the time, they are complementary. But sometimes they cause conflict, as in conflict of interest.

Any board or organization is a potential subject or client of my documentary work. As a board member, I would have input or at least influence in choosing my work.  

This is my personal ethic. There is nothing actually illegal about self-dealing while on a board. It is frowned upon, but it won’t cause you to lose your job or an election.